Harem
by CadenceSnow
Summary: Eric hires Sookie to help find a kidnapped woman. Will Sookie be the next victim? And how will she respond when Eric begins pouring on the charm? Rated M for a reason.
1. A Debt Owed

Disclaimer—Sookie, Eric, and the other characters in this story are not owned by yours truly.

_To those who have me on Author Alert-I apologize if the listing was confusing. The site is pretty glitched right now, and the only way I could upload a new story was to place it under the incorrect fandom. After that I should be able to place it in the correct category. Also, I'm unsure if my story alerts are even being received._

Chapter 1

A Debt Owed

_Damn_. That was the only word that came to mind as I eyed his bare chest. _Double_ _damn_, I thought, as I followed the line of his happy trail. I wanted to kiss my way down it, but there was no time. I had an early shift at Merlotte's. I sighed and pried myself away, earning a mid-REM growl in response. Most people talk in their sleep, but Alcide's a werewolf so the rules are a little different for him.

The last six months had been the best sex of my life, compliments of the werewolf. He was truly an animal in bed, ha, ha. But he was a workaholic - he and his father owned a construction business - so we didn't have a chance to spend as much time together as I would've liked.

Our clothes were scattered across the room, a bra here, a pair of boxers there. Smiling at the X-rated memories from the night before, I gathered them up, snickering at my shredded g-string. But when I slung Alcide's jeans over my shoulder something fell out of the front pocket, and the snicker froze in my throat.

It made a metal _clank_ as it hit the hardwood. At first I figured it was a dime or a quarter…but dimes and quarters aren't gold. It was one of those moments where my eyes and mind were at odds.

_That's a wedding ring!_, my eyes shouted.

_That's no wedding ring!,_ my mind yelled back. _Alcide's a good man. He wouldn't do that to me. _

They continued to argue as the object rolled under the bed, vanishing from sight.

I fell to hands and knees and peered under the bed. There it was, glinting beside a dust bunny - a gold wedding band. My eyes and mind decided to stop bickering then; it was pretty hard to stay in denial with the proof right in front of me. I'm not sure how long I was frozen like that, on all fours with my rump poking out from under the bed, until the mattress above me shifted.

"What are you doing under there, Sook?" Alcide asked. A big hand pawed my rear end, the fingers as warm as an electric blanket. Since he's a werewolf his body temperature is higher than the average bear. Usually I find his heat a turn-on, but I couldn't stand his touch now that I was nose to nose with his wedding ring. I snatched it up and backed out from under the bed.

His playful smile disappeared the second he caught sight of the ring. "Shit," he said. "Why were you rifling through my pockets?"

"I don't rifle through people's pockets, Alcide." That was true. Gran taught me better then that. "It fell out of your pocket. Were you planning to tell me you're married? Or were you just going to fuck me until you got tired of me?" Gran also taught me better than to say the F-word, but I was more furious than I'd ever been in my life. So furious my whole body was shaking like a Chihuahua.

I might have been many things (a telepath, a barmaid, a mystery novel enthusiast) but one thing I refused to be was a mistress. He had lied to me every single day for the last six months - and I was still so in shock I hadn't quite absorbed the full impact of that yet - but even worse than his deception was the fact that he might have kids. There was no way I would ever forgive myself if I was a home wrecker, even if the home wrecking was inadvertent.

He sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Debbie and I are separated."

The name blared in my head. _Debbie._ The ring had confirmed he was married, but hearing his wife's name made it all the more real. I snarled and threw the ring at him. He caught it, curling a fist around it with predatory grace.

"Get out of my house! Take your shit and get out of my house!" I began chucking his clothes at him. First his jeans, then his shirt, then his boxers and socks. By the time I threw his shoes, I was a wild woman. Strangely, he didn't move a muscle throughout; he didn't even blink as a shoe ricocheted off his forehead. He took his licks with surprising equanimity.

"Sookie, I'm filing for divorce."

"Sure you are. Like I'll believe a word you say." My voice cracked, and a spiky knot formed in my throat. Any moment I'd start crying, and I didn't want the bastard to witness the event. "Get out!"

"Fine," he said, and he sounded angry. After what he'd done, he had the nerve to be pissed with me?

I averted my eyes as he rose, tall and built to high heaven and as naked as the day he was born. He collected his things and left, his gait stiff. Maybe he would put on his clothes in the living room. Hell, maybe he would drive home bare-assed. I didn't care as long as he was gone.

The dam broke when I heard his truck leaving my driveway. It was one of those ugly cries, the kind where the eyes swell and snot flows and sobs rake through you. And like a masochist, I replayed all the most hurtful scenes in full Technicolor. Our lovemaking. The times we joked and laughed and discussed a future together. All of it was a lie.

He had no intention of leaving Debbie. The fact that he kept the ring in his pocket was proof of that. How many times had he slipped on the damn thing after stepping out of my house? How many times had he claimed he was working when he was actually with his wife?

Weres are difficult to read with my telepathy unless they're purposely shoving thoughts in my direction. That sad fact was why I didn't know Alcide was married. I'd trusted him enough not to dig deeper into his head, and he had made a fool out of me.

Dating is hard for a girl with a freaky talent. Humans broadcast the loudest, which makes dating them practically impossible. I can hear their every thought, and I always end up hearing things I don't want to hear. So when I met Alcide and realized how much more difficult it was to eavesdrop on his mind, I was smitten. He was my first boyfriend, my first lover. Just thinking about him deflowering me, knowing all along he had a wife at home…

_No more_, I told myself finally. I wanted to roll up into the fetal position and sleep for about forty-eight hours, but I wasn't one to hide from reality. So I showered, dressed, and put on a bit of make-up before driving to Merlotte's.

My boss, Sam, took one look at me and a crater formed between his eyes. Hopefully his concern would outweigh his annoyance that I was late for my shift. It did.

"What's wrong?" he asked. His auburn hair was mussed, as if he'd been running his fingers through it, and there was a stack of paperwork on the desk in front of him.

More than once I'd imagined us together, but he was my boss and that was one line I wasn't going to cross. _You've already crossed the worst line of all, _my masochistic side said. _You slept with a married __man for months. _

"I can't talk about it now," I said, hearing the hitch in my voice. "I just need to distract myself with work."

"Okay. But if you wanna talk…"

Sam really was a good man. I managed a smile, remembering something Gran used to say. _It takes more muscles to frown_. She died from a stroke a year ago, and during times like these, when I felt hurt and confused, I missed her more than ever. Her wise counsel had pointed me in the right direction my entire life. Now I was flying solo and doing a terrible job of it.

"Thanks," I said, though I had no intention of taking him up on his offer.

He nodded and returned his attention to the paperwork, but I sensed him watching me as I left the office. Since he's a true shapeshifter, I can read his thoughts about as well as I can a Were's, but I didn't need my telepathy to know he had feelings for me. Why couldn't I fall for a man like him instead of a duplicitous bastard like Alcide?

By sundown the worst had past. I was still hurt, but I wasn't brooding over it every second like I was before. Working helped. Merlotte's was slammed, and I dashed back and forth, delivering drinks and food to table after table for several hours. Eventually the rush petered out, and I took a break to rest my throbbing arches.

"Trouble with your werewolf?" Lafayette asked, and dropped into a chair beside me. Tonight he wore a sparkly, golden scarf around his head, and his lashes were coated with mascara. Why did guys always have the long, perfect lashes women would kill for?

Lafayette is gay, but he's definitely not one to trifle with. I've seen him stomp redneck butt several times - sparkly scarf and long lashes and all. Every now and then a very foolish person will call Lafayette "faggot" or some other disparagement, only to learn the hard way that homosexual does not equal sissy.

I was on the verge of spilling my guts when Lafayette clucked his tongue. "Yum. That's an ass I'd _love_ to sink my teeth into."

"Huh? Who?" I asked. Sometimes we checked out guys together, so I wasn't taken aback by his explicit phrasing.

"That tall drink of water that just walked in."

That was when I saw a man that was so gorgeous I blinked to make sure he was really there. He stood by the door, his eyes scanning the bar until landing directly on me. Typically I would have played coy and glanced away, but I stared dumbly, my mouth agape. Distantly I was aware I was probably flashing my tonsils at him.

I absorbed every inch of him in a haze, a haze which broke into a million pieces as he approached. I began to panic. He was too gorgeous - why would he want to talk to me, the town freak? He was the kind of man who could have any woman he wanted. Every lady in the bar was practically melting in their seats as he past them.

Instinctively, my mind reached out to his, and I found…nothing. His mind was a big, quiet blank. The gorgeous blonde was a vampire.

I don't have much contact with the vamp community. Vampires aren't exactly a dime a dozen in my little town, and I've heard enough bad rumors about them to keep my distance. Horror stories about human slaves and blood orgies and devil worship, things like that.

In fact, I'd only ever met one vampire, Bill Compton. He's my neighbor, but he keeps to himself. Occasionally he comes into Merlotte's with his girlfriend, a real estate agent named Selah Pumphrey. I knew how vampire minds "felt" due to my limited interactions with him.

I snapped my jaw closed as the blonde vamp stopped at my table. He towered above me; I had to raise my head up and up to find his face, and what a face it was. Perfectly sculpted, with those incredible blue eyes as a focal point. My heart started beating the hell out of my chest, and not because I was afraid of him.

"Sookie Stackhouse?" The sound of his deep voice pronouncing my name sent prickles dancing all over me.

"Yes?"

"May I join you for a moment? Privately?" He glanced in Lafayette's direction.

Lafayette took the hint. "Ta-ta," he said, and wiggled his rear as he sashayed toward the kitchen. I couldn't help but grin at that wiggling rear of his. It took a lot of courage for Lafayette to be openly gay in a town like Bon Temps.

"Uh, sure," I said to the vampire, and gestured for him to have a seat. Unlike Alcide, the vamp radiated cold. It wasn't an unpleasant cold, though. "What can I do for you, Mr…?"

"Eric Northman." He didn't move to shake, so I kept my hands planted on my lap. "I'm the proprietor of a bar in Shreveport. Fangtasia."

I knew about Fangtasia, since fang-bangers flocked there in droves. I was curious about the place, but I'd never gone, mostly because I was afraid I'd be drained dry by some random vampire. Vamps are predators, after all, specially designed to feast on humans. I'd rather stay curious than be dead.

"I have a matter you can help me with," he said, and leaned forward, so close the prickles on the back of my neck swept down my arms. "I'll pay you handsomely for your services, of course."

"Services?" I asked, my mouth suddenly as dry as sandpaper.

An eyebrow went up. "You are a mind reader, correct?"

My telepathy is no secret. People know what I'm capable of, but most either write me off as crazy or ignore it altogether. No one had ever asked me point blank about my talent, not even Alcide. I glanced around nervously. Sam was behind the bar, scowling at the blonde vamp. Lafayette was shamelessly eye-fucking Eric. So was Arlene and the other waitresses…in fact, everyone in the bar was honed in on us - or more correctly, on Eric. I'm sure he noticed the gawking, but he didn't seem to care. Perhaps he was used to it.

"Have I offended in you in some way?" he asked, once the silence between us had prolonged.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Not exactly. It's not something I talk about very much."

He looked me up and down for a moment, and his gaze lingered on my breasts. I was used to the titty gazing - I work in a bar, after all - and usually it annoys me. It's not like my uniform shirt is low cut, so I figure I'm not inviting the stares. But when he stared, some shallow part of me was flattered a man as handsome as Eric was appreciating the goods.

_He's not a man_, I quickly reminded myself. _He's something else entirely_. _Something you should be frightened of._

But as hard as I tried, I couldn't find it in me to be frightened of him. He seemed calm and together and completely in control, and the silence coming from his head was relaxing. After years of hearing _blah, __blah, blah _from all the minds around me, it was so nice to hear absolutely nothing at all. Even with Alcide I had to put up a faint shield. Too bad I hadn't probed his mind all the way to the core. If I had, I wouldn't have cried my eyes out earlier.

"You act as if your gift is something to be ashamed of," Eric said. It wasn't a question, but it was clear he wanted an explanation. Since he sounded genuinely curious, I answered him.

"I do my best to stay out of their thoughts, but I make people uncomfortable anyhow. They think I'm a freak."

"Then they're fools," he said, and so matter-of-factly I believed him.

"How did you find out about me?"

"One of my waitresses has disappeared," he said, ignoring my question. "I need you to listen to the thoughts of my human staff to determine what they know. I'll pay you ten thousand dollars."

Ten grand just to poke around in some minds? I gulped. "Do you think she was kidnapped? Or murdered?"

"I am not sure if she is alive or dead."

"If I help you find the woman, what will happen to the person who took her? You'll call the cops, right?"

He looked vaguely annoyed I had deigned to question how he conducted his affairs, probably because I was a mere human. "I will handle the situation the way I see fit."

I had no idea what the vamp meant to do to the villain once I identified him. I guessed Eric would punish this person severely, and I didn't want to be a party to that. I did feel guilty since I could help find the woman, but surely he had others he could turn to for assistance. Such as the police. I was just a barmaid; my area of expertise was not tracking down missing waitresses. "It was nice to meet you, Mr. Northman, but I must politely decline."

"You're refusing my offer?" He seemed surprised, as if people rarely refused him, and maybe they didn't. He was gorgeous and powerful and charismatic. Humans, especially females, probably kowtowed to him on a daily basis.

That only made me want to resist him all the more. He might be the boss in his universe, but he wasn't the boss in mine. "If you excuse me, I have to get back to work." I took off with an angry stride - his arrogance chapped my ass, and I didn't have the patience for it after what happened with Alcide - when a hand clamped around my arm. I felt the potential power in that hand and knew Eric could tear me limb from limb if he wanted. Now I was properly scared, which was exactly what he'd been going for.

"I offered to pay you out of courtesy, Miss Stackhouse. I can force you."

There was no way I could pry his fingers off me, but I struggled against him nonetheless. "Let go."

"You will come with me." His eyes flashed so brightly a blue light could have been shining out of them.

I _hmph_ed when I saw what he was doing. "Are you trying to glamour me? Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

I'd never seen a glamour in action before, but Alcide explained it. Most humans are putty in a vamp's hands after a glamour, but apparently, I was impervious to it. This was a good thing to know, but it could be a dangerous thing, too. Eric would have to resort to other means to force me to do his bidding. I doubted he would give up so easily.

His eyes stopped flashing and his grip on me relaxed. I jerked my arm from him, noticing the puzzled expression on his face. My immunity must have thrown him for a loop.

"Is there a problem?" Sam asked. I'd been so involved in my tangle with Eric I didn't notice him arrive.

"There's no problem," I said, aimed a go-to-Hell look at the manipulative vamp, and stomped off. After about sixty seconds, I glanced at the spot where Eric was sitting, and he was gone.

My shift was over an hour later, and as I crossed the parking lot to my car I was still fuming. The day had royally sucked. First I found out Alcide was married, then a vampire tried to brainwash me. _I can force you, _Eric said. The parking lot was dark, and hearing that voice of his, even in memory, sent chills up my spine.

More chills went up my spine when I sensed I wasn't alone. The mind I detected was snarly and a little staticky, which meant it belonged to a Were. I twirled round, going for the mace I kept in my purse, and spotted her. I couldn't see her well, but the rage flaming in her mind was loud and clear.

"Whore," she hissed. She slunk closer, until her face was partially illuminated. I saw dark eyes, glinting with a silver cast, and a pair of bony cheekbones, but that was all.

At first I was confused as to why a stranger had called me a whore, until I had an A-ha moment. This must be Alcide's wife, Debbie. Why else would a female Were I'd never met call me such a derogatory term? How she found out about Alcide and me, I didn't know, but her intentions were obvious. Things were about to get ugly.

I had the mace in my hands, but I knew it wouldn't help much. The Were could crush every bone in my body without even breaking a sweat. The bar was about twenty feet away, but the gulf between me and it seemed a mile wide. I was about to run for it anyhow, screaming my head off for Sam, who was inside closing shop, but I didn't have a chance to take so much as a step.

She pounced with alarming speed. One moment I was upright, the next I hit the pavement. The back of my skull slammed against the concrete, and my brain bounced around in my skull. I heard a loud, terrified scream and realized it was me, then a _snap_ and the mace rolled out of my hand. Pain shot through my arm - had she broken my wrist? I fought, but she might as well have been grappling with a toddler for all the strength I had in comparison to her.

My body became one big, throbbing nerve; I had never suffered such agony in my life. It made me want to pass out, but I struggled against it. What was she doing to me? I thought my body was being ripped and torn, but I wasn't sure. Something inside had short-circuited, sparing me from the macabre details.

There was a strangled mewl, and then the weight atop me vanished. I blinked, battling to make my eyes focus, but everything was a blur. Hands grabbed me. I cringed, but these hands didn't bring the pain I'd expected. I heard a shout: was it Sam? I slipped into nothingness before finding out.

* * *

The sheets were sticky with blood. So was I, for that matter. Dried blood covered my body - my half nude body. My Merlotte's uniform had been replaced by a giant t-shirt with the word FANGTASIA printed across the front.

There was a chair nearby, and a vamp was perched in it. Her attire was prim and proper and very Republican, string of pearls and all. Her eyes were cold and flat as she stared at me.

I racked my memory for some clue as to how I'd ended up on the bed, but the last thing I remembered was being attacked. "Where am I? What happened?"

The blood indicated I hadn't imagined the Were mauling me, but why wasn't I in any pain? I felt rejuvenated, virile, damn near indestructible.

The lady vamp flipped open a cell phone and pushed a button, oblivious to my personal drama. "The human's awake," she said, and snapped the phone closed again. She twirled it between nimble fingers and stared at me some more. "This is the shifter's trailer. The one beside his bar."

No wonder I didn't recognize where I was. I had visited Sam at home before, but I'd never been in his bedroom. "I'm Sookie," I said, knowing I sounded like a complete idiot. Any moment, and I'd be babbling.

"I know who you are," she said, and not in a way that invited further conversation.

The door opened, and Eric stepped across the threshold wearing a Fangtasia shirt that matched my own. His blonde hair was pulled back from his face, and those blue eyes of his were blazing. My first thought was: _He's magnificent_. My second thought was: _What the hell is going on? Where is Sam?_

Eric gestured like the lord in the manor, and the lady vamp slipped out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. He wrapped his arms across his chest and stared at me in the same flat way she had. "Who was the she-Were?"

"I don't know for sure."

"She certainly knew you. She disemboweled you."

I wasn't about to raise up the shirt to check my abdomen (especially since I was going commando) but I figured I would've noticed if my viscera was waving hello. Besides, that curious virility was pulsing through me.

"Why aren't I injured?" As I spoke an explanation bubbled to the surface, but it fizzled out before I could catch it and take a peek.

"I asked you a question. Who was the she-Were?"

The last thing I wanted to do was rehash the Alcide fiasco, but if I was candid with the vamp he might return the favor. "I've been dating a Were for a few months. I found out he was married and broke up with him. I think the Were was his wife, Debbie."

Eric smirked. "I see."

My anger flared at that smirk. How was the situation humorous? I had almost been killed. "Are you going to explain what happened or are you going to stand there and laugh at me?"

His eyes narrowed into slits. "No one talks to me in that tone of voice, Miss Stackhouse."

_His_ tone was lethal, downright terrifying. It reminded me not to forget what he was or what he was capable of. Yet I recalled hands cradling me, and I suspected those hands were his. The memories were slippery, but I was certain Eric had shown me great kindness while I was half dead. That kindness was a far cry from how he was behaving now, but surely I could give him a break after what he had done for me.

"You're right," I said, swallowing back my anger. "You saved my life, and I'm being disrespectful."

Up went that eyebrow again. I was beginning to suspect he did that when something surprised him. Perhaps he hadn't expected me to cave so easily. "Who is the Were you were dating?"

"Alcide Herveaux." A recollection came to me…the sound of the strangled mewl. "Did you hurt Debbie? You were the one that pulled her off me, right?"

"The she-Were is unharmed. Your shifter boss interrupted before I could punish her." He seemed disappointed he didn't have a chance to "punish her." What would his punishment entail exactly? I decided I didn't want to know.

The explanation I'd chased earlier bubbled into my awareness again, and this time I captured it before it could slide back into the abyss. My stomach rolled. "You gave me blood didn't you?" I asked, unable to conceal my disgust.

Vampire blood has magical healing properties. This was yet another thing I'd learned from Alcide. He might have treated me badly, but at least he taught me enough about the supe world to navigate through it and not be totally lost.

"You should feel honored. I don't donate my blood often," Eric said, clearly affronted by my attitude on the matter.

Bile coated the back of my throat. I had consumed blood - and vampire blood at that - but it had saved my life, so I couldn't very well be too disgusted. "Thank you, then," I said. "But was it necessary to undress me?"

"Yes." That smirk returned. I suddenly had a horrible image of me, utterly unconscious, naked and covered in blood. Eric could have done anything he wanted to me, and I wouldn't have known. And even worse, he thought it was humorous.

_You'll catch more flies with honey than vinegar_, a voice advised. The voice sounded suspiciously like Gran, so I again swallowed back my anger. For some reason, Eric could rile me up faster than anyone I had ever met. "I'd like my clothes back please."

"Your clothes were destroyed. Pam fetched you something to wear." He gestured to the edge of the desk, where there was a carefully folded pile of clothing - a very thin pile of clothing, all of it black. "Pam will escort you to the shower, and then we'll discuss what you're going to do for me."

It was my turn to narrow my eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I saved your life. That means you owe me."

Of course he would expect something in return. The night's events had certainly worked out in his favor. I sighed. "You want me to find the waitress."

He nodded, radiating smugness. He thought he had me over a barrel, but I meant to show him otherwise. I squared my shoulders. "If you refuse to turn the bad guy over to the police I'm not going to help you."

"You are a frustrating woman," he said, although he didn't seem entirely displeased. "What if I agreed to turn him over to your police? You would cooperate then?"

"Absolutely."

"Then it's settled."

I wasn't stupid enough to believe I could trust him one hundred percent, but I sensed he was the type who stuck to his word. I would help him, though I worried I would end up regretting it.

"Where's Sam?"

"He's on the phone with Debbie's packmaster giving an account of what occurred."

So Sam was squealing on Debbie. Good.

The door opened again, and there was the lady vamp from before. This was probably the Pam Eric mentioned. She must have been eavesdropping to have entered at the perfect moment.

"Make that a hot shower," Eric said, and ogled my breasts. "You look cold."

I had been feeling cold; chilly air must have wafted under the tent-like shirt. A quick glance downward showed me a pair of erect nipples, perfectly outlined under the fabric. I wondered if I should react with embarrassment, ire, or simply ignore him. I decided to ignore him. If I let him know how much he got under my skin, I would be giving him power over me.

"So I am," I said as nonchalantly as I could, and followed Pam into the bathroom. I wasn't sure why I needed an escort, but I was too eager for a bath to complain.

I must admit, I procrastinated. By the time I grudgingly left the shower, the water was about the temperature of an ice cube. I wrapped myself in a towel and examined the clothing I was supposed to wear. The dress was made of a thin, body-hugging material that would show off my every flaw. Not to mention how much cleavage and legs I'd flaunt in the thing. The g-string still had a tag on it and bore the Fangtasia logo; it was probably an item from the gift shop. There was no bra in sight.

"Great," I grumbled. "Well, at least the panties are brand new."

A knock startled me. "Hurry, Human," Pam said through the door. Apparently my lollygagging was testing her patience.

I quickly dried off and squeezed into the tiny dress. It was so short, if I bent over I'd moon the world. I felt naked without a bra, but the dress cinched my waist so tightly my cleavage was forced toward the heavens. It looked like a small butt had sprouted on my chest.

As I left the bathroom, Pam shoved a pair of stilettos in my arms. "Here."

I leaned against the wall for leverage and stabbed my feet into the pumps, glad there were no straps or buckles to deal with. Otherwise I would've had to bend down to put them on, and I didn't want to have to bend down in the short dress, especially with Eric around.

Pam and I went to Sam's living room. Eric was looming near the window, which overlooked the Merlotte's parking lot. I didn't peer through the glass, afraid I would see a pool of my own blood on the macadam.

Sam was in his recliner, but he was so tense I knew he'd be able to leap to his feet in a second if the situation called for it. "Sook," he said, and the relief in his voice was obvious. "Are you okay?"

"Physically I think I'm fine. What did the packmaster say?"

"Based on the description I gave, he said your attacker sounded like Debbie Pelt. Alcide's wife." He nearly growled at the mention of Alcide. "I didn't know he was married. If I did I would have told you right off."

I had wondered if any of my friends were aware Alcide was married. But Alcide lived in Shreveport, so it was doubtful any of them realized. "I know," I said. I didn't particularly care to talk about it further. I looked at Eric, who had been closely watching the exchange. "Let's get this over with."

"Get what over with?" asked Sam. He was at my side in a flash, as if to protect me from another attack.

"One of waitresses at Fangtasia is missing. Eric's paying me to help find her."

"Sookie…" Sam warned. "I don't think that's the best idea."

I didn't think it was either. "He saved my life - I owe him." And if I could rescue the waitress, at least my freaky power would be used for good. Besides, I needed the extra money. My driveway desperately needed to be re-graveled.

"Miss Stackhouse will be safe with us," said Eric. He didn't seem pleased Sam was interfering. "She is an asset."

"She's not an _asset_. She's a woman," said Sam.

Eric took me in, grinning rather devilishly as he did so. "Yes, she is."

I rolled my eyes at his deliberate attempt to rile up Sam. "The matter is settled. I already agreed to help."

"Then I'm coming with you." Sam's face was bent with determination. I recognized the look; it meant he would refuse to take no for an answer.

"The shifter is unwelcome," Pam said, and bared her fangs at him.

"Tell them Sookie. You need someone watching your back." He glared at Pam, refusing to back down despite her threatening behavior.

"Alright," I said. I didn't want Sam involved in case there was trouble, but he was too stubborn to talk him out of it. "I would prefer it if Sam accompanied me."

Eric peered at Sam - and it wasn't a very nice sort of peering - but finally agreed. "Meet us at Fangtasia. As soon as possible." He pulled open the door and stepped out into the night…only to rise into the air and fly off.

I blinked, thinking I must have been hallucinating, and hurried outside. I gaped at the sky, but there was no sign of the blonde vamp. "He can fly? Like Superman?"

"He can do many things," said Pam. I jumped, since I didn't realize she was behind me. So close in fact, a cool breath caressed the nape of my neck. "And he is highly skilled at all of them." She gave me a wink and strode over to a dark Mercedes. Determining exactly what color it was proved difficult in the dimness.

As Pam backed out of her parking space, Sam said he would drive. That was acceptable, seeing as how my car had been on its last leg for the last several years. We climbed into his truck, and I fidgeted with the dress, trying to pull it down. The fabric stretched, then snapped back into place like a rubber band.

"Wish I had time to change," I griped. Not that I'm a prude, but I usually don't wear clothing that was so revealing.

"There's time. Want me to drive you to your house?"

The notion was tempting, but I shook my head. "I don't want to keep Eric waiting. I am sort of his employee now."

Sam fired the engine. "Don't let yourself be lured in," he said, with alarming grimness. "Vampires can't be trusted. Believe me."


	2. Under the Influence

Disclaimer—Sookie, Eric, and the other characters in this story are not owned by yours truly.

_Thanks for all the reviews and alerts! You guys are great!_

Chapter Two  
Under the Influence

When we arrived at Fangtasia I was glad Sam had insisted on "watching my back" as he put it. I had never been around so many vampires before, and it made me uneasy. The vamp that creeped me out the most was named Long Shadow. Pam introduced us as she shuffled me and Sam through the bar, and Long Shadow eyed me like I was a juicy steak. Long Shadow was the meanest looking vampire I'd seen yet. He wouldn't delicately suck a neck - he would tear off a head to get to the blood.

Sam must have agreed with my assessment, because he slung an arm around my waist. Normally I would have politely withdrawn since I didn't want to give him any ideas, but that strong arm around my waist was a comfort.

Fangtasia was really bustling with patrons. Some of them were in corsets and leather and fit in with their surroundings. The rest were dressed conservatively in comparison and seemed more like tourists. I didn't have to be a vampire to know they were easy meat. I wanted to tell them to go somewhere else, somewhere safe, but who was I to cast stones? I wasn't exactly safe either.

On impulse, I dropped my shields and reached out with my telepathy. A maelstrom of thoughts slammed into me, and my head filled with a shooting pain. I scrambled to throw up my shields and sighed with relief once I was firmly behind them. Never before had thoughts rushed at me like that, not even when I had crappy shields and could barely handle being out in public.

Pam guided us to a small room in the back. Pounding base made the walls vibrate, but the song lyrics were muffled.

Eric sat on a stool by a table, at which was a young woman. Her hair was black, with short, Betty Paige style bangs. And like the pin-up, she was pale and wore red lipstick. "I don't know what happened to Ginger, Master," she said, and anxiously gnawed on her lower lip.

She called him _Master_. No wonder he had such an enormous ego; he was surrounded by sycophants. I suppressed a snort of derision.

He ogled me in the barely-there dress. I couldn't tell if he was merely appreciating the view or if he was imagining me nude. It was probably a little of both. I frowned in response.

"Read the human's mind," he said finally, his voice all business.

"Is Ginger the missing waitress?" I asked. It would help if I had some information to work with before I started.

"Yes," he said, and motioned for me to proceed as if I was one of his minions. I wanted to object, until I realized I _was_ one of his minions, at least temporarily.

I introduced myself to the woman and took her hands. She clung to me as if I was a life raft and she was drowning. She wasn't the only one drowning. I was inundated with such a potent slew of sights and sounds that I flinched. Some humans are broadcasters - they're easier to read than others - but this was ridiculous. Had my telepathic ability been heightened? And if so, did Eric's blood have something to do with it? That would certainly explain the barrage of thoughts that assaulted me when I lowered my shields earlier.

"It's okay," I said, and her death grip loosened a fraction.

Sorting through her mind was incredibly easy. I learned her name was Bethany, that she was a waitress, and that she was infatuated with Eric. The sex fantasies stored in that head of hers were hardcore, and all involved the blonde vamp, though they had never actually "made love". She'd been pining for him for two years. It pained her to see him with other women, which was a frequent occurrence.

Thanks to her vivid memories I saw his women, too. In his lap at the bar. Dancing for him. On their knees in his office, servicing him…I disconnected before the visions became too graphic. Would Eric screw _anything_ with two legs? He was the epitome of a womanizer, a man-slut through and through.

"When was the last time you saw Ginger?" I asked. Now that I had a feel for Bethany's mind I needed to provoke specific thoughts and memories.

What I experienced was a sort of collage of words and images. Bethany and Ginger didn't get along well; Bethany hated how the other waitress threw herself at Eric any chance she could. There were more quick flashes. Ginger in the bathroom, fixing her make-up. Ginger delivering drinks and shaking her rump any time Eric looked at her. Ginger smiling as a vamp sunk his teeth into her neck…

As the memories progressed, they became more and more distorted. They were blurry, and sometimes there were black voids. If her memory was a movie, then the voids were spots where footage had been edited out.

"She's been glamoured?" I asked. This could explain the voids.

"On several occasions," Eric said. He was much too flippant. Apparently blacking out someone's memory was commonplace. Even Bethany wasn't upset by this; it was normal for her. How could she function? I would constantly worry what memories the vampires had stolen from me, and why.

I zoned in on her latest memories of Ginger. These were the ones that were blurred. From what I could tell, Ginger was arguing with a man behind the bar. Bethany had slipped out back for a cigarette, and when she saw the couple she hid in the shadows to spy on them.

This was when things turned weird. The man (his body was definitely male) had a changing face. Sometimes he looked like Eric. Sometimes he looked like Long Shadow, or Pam, and others I didn't recognize, but I guessed they were all vamps. It was eerie to watch.

He grabbed Ginger's arm, dragging her toward the rear parking lot, and she cursed and kicked his shin. The man - who now wore Pam's face - backhanded her. This was a guy who was accustomed to backhanding women, judging by how good he was at it. Ginger took the blow, then moved to hit him in return. It seemed she was used to brawling.

This was when things turned even weirder. He began to whisper, but I couldn't understand what he said. After the whisper Ginger went limp and dropped to the ground. He knelt beside her, still whispering. His head swiveled, (now he had Long Shadow's face) and he stared at the exact spot Bethany was hiding…

The memory was too blurred to see what happened beyond that, but I had the impression that this man, whoever he was, had done something to Bethany. After all, he had known she was spying - he looked directly at her.

I disengaged from her mind, feeling vaguely dirty and more than a little disturbed.

"You may leave," Eric said. Bethany obeyed but paused long enough to have one last glimpse of him before going. The poor girl really had it bad for him, and Eric didn't even seem to notice. Or give a damn, maybe.

As I watched Bethany leave, I realized she reminded me of my cousin, Hadley. Hadley, too, had a hard life. Bethany hadn't turned to drugs like my cousin, but both of the young women were so dysfunctional they were broken. I had no clue where Hadley even was. She could have been dead for all I knew.

"Tell me what you learned," Eric commanded.

Again I bristled. His attitude really pissed me off, but I remained professional. Eric was paying me an exorbitant amount of money, and wasting time squabbling with him would only result in having to stay in his presence for a longer duration.

Pam stuck her head into the room. "Master, there's an irate Were demanding to speak with you. He's making a scene."

"Who is he?" Eric asked, and pounced off the stool with impressive liquidity.

"He says his name is Alcide. He wants to see the mind reader."

I gasped. What in the hell was Alcide doing here? Eric caught my eye and grinned. "It seems drama follows you everywhere you go, Mind Reader."

"I have no control over Alcide," I said coolly. "And don't call me that. I have a name."

"By all means, bring him in, Pam," said Eric.

Pam disappeared to fetch the irate Were, and I glared at Eric, whose smirking had reached an all time high. "After I finish this job for you I never want to see you again."

Before he could reply, Alcide charged in, only to come to a sudden halt. He studied my outfit with disgust. On more than one occasion he'd made his opinion of fang-bangers clear, and now I was dressed like one. "What are you wearing, Sook?"

"What are you doing here?" I asked. There was no point in beating around the bush. The faster he said his piece, the faster he would leave.

"Colonel Flood told me you were attacked outside Merlotte's and that a vamp saved you." Colonel Flood was his packmaster. "I've been searching all over, but I didn't think I'd actually find you here with _him_." He leveled a furious gaze at Eric before turning back to me. "Are you okay?"

Meanwhile, Sam, who until then had merely observed the goings-on, decided to interrupt. "You should leave, Alcide. Don't pretend you actually give a shit about Sookie."

"You need to keep that psycho wife of yours on a leash," I snapped. I didn't bother to respond to Alcide's supposed concern for my well-being or Sam's very valid statement. If Alcide cared so much he wouldn't have conveniently forgotten to tell me he was married. "I would have died if it wasn't for Eric."

He shook his head. "Debbie wouldn't do that."

"Oh, really? Then why did a female Were I've never met before call me a whore and try to kill me?"

"I smell her on you," Eric interjected. "The Were that attacked Sookie."

"So do I," Sam said.

Alcide shook his head again, and with more vigor than previously. "It wasn't Debbie." Did he suspect she was my assailant? He seemed to be trying to convince himself as well as us.

"Does she have dark hair, cut strangely? A long face?" Eric asked.

Alcide was quiet for a little too long, which confirmed the description matched his psycho wife. "This is none of your business, Vampire." His eyes looked more like a wolf's than a man's. I had seen his eyes change in this manner before - it tended to happen when he was angry - and it never failed to give me a chill.

"It is my business. Not only was I forced to save Sookie's life, but now you're causing a scene in my bar. Wedding ring and all."

Something inside me twisted at the sight of that gold band. "Keep Debbie away from me. Keep yourself away, too. I'm done with the both of you."

"Come with me. You don't want to get tangled up with vampires." He plucked me from the chair.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I protested, and tried to wiggle away from him. I was damn tired of being manhandled by supernatural creatures. I kept wiggling and protesting as he hauled me through the door.

"She wants to stay," Eric said. He was suddenly in front of us, when a second before, he was behind us. How did he do that?

"You brainwashed her to want to stay," Alcide said. "Step aside."

I sliced at Alcide's arm deep enough to draw blood, but he didn't even wince. "I can't be glamoured. Eric already tried, okay? Now let me go!" I was using my body weight to pull away, so when he released me I fell on my butt, jarring my tailbone on the floor.

Sam had yet to get between the vamp and the Were, but he seemed ready for anything. I was relieved he hadn't interfered - two supes fighting was bad enough, much less three.

"Sookie is an employee. She's under my protection," Eric said to my ex. The two were nose to nose. Violence would soon break out if the situation wasn't diffused. "Do _you_ want to tangle with me?"

Who would win in a death match? A vampire or a werewolf? I didn't know, and I didn't want to find out. "Alcide, go before things get out of hand. For God sakes, I don't even want you here."

I was still sprawled on the floor, and the dress had hitched up, exposing the g-string with the Fangtasia logo. I yanked the dress down with a scowl.

"Fine," he said. It was exactly what he said when I confronted him with the ring. He stormed off with that same angry gait, and the sight of it left me with a queasy déjà vu feeling.

Eric extended a hand, and since his smirk was gone I accepted. He lifted me to my feet so abruptly one of my pumps flew off, and I knew that if the whim struck he could have tossed me around the room. It was frightening to know the person holding you could crush you to death, but it was also thrilling.

"Thank you for helping me up," I said, and shoved a foot into the wayward pump. "But you're still on my shit list."

He laughed, and I was struck again by his magnificence. He couldn't glamour me, but he really didn't need to. I found him intoxicating anyway, man-slut or not. I really must have been a masochist, being attracted to him despite what I knew about him. I hated to think Bethany and I were cut from the same cloth.

"Let's get this over with," I said. I went into the small room and took my former seat. I then described everything I saw in Bethany's head, and Eric was particularly interested in the blurry memory that took place behind the bar.

Once more, I compared her memories to a film. "When someone is glamoured there's nothing left behind, just a void. Like a movie with scenes edited out. But the last memory, the one with Ginger and the man, was different. It was like the scene had been manipulated. The memory was altered, not removed. The man's face kept shifting to hide his identity. His voice was too distorted to hear what he whispered to Ginger. And whatever he did to Bethany was so blurred I couldn't even make it out.

"Bethany claimed she didn't know what happened to Ginger, and I believe her on that count. I don't think she remembers what she saw behind the bar."

"That does not sound like a glamour," said Eric.

"So the man who took Bethany wasn't a vampire," I said. "Then _what_ was he?"

We didn't have an answer to that. Unless Eric had one and wasn't sharing, which wouldn't have been a shocker.

I read the minds of his remaining employees, but no one knew anything about Ginger's disappearance, and none had any blurred memories.

By the time I was through, I was more than ready to go home. Being around Eric was exhausting because I was drawn to him and yet repelled in equal measure. It took a lot of energy to feel lustful and angry all at once.

"Tomorrow you will return. Be ready after nightfall."

The thought of returning to his world unnerved me almost as much as he did. "I have to work, and besides, I'm not interested in coming back here."

"You haven't found out what happened to the waitress. That was our deal, was it not?"

He had a good point, but I needed to dig myself out from under his thumb as swiftly as possible. Alcide and Sam were right about one thing - I didn't want to get tangled up with vampires. "I read everyone's mind, as I agreed. I can't be held responsible for not finding the kidnapper."

Eric stepped closer, using his size to intimidate me. He was doing a pretty good job of it, but I refused to retreat. Instead I moved even closer to him and lifted my head up high.

"I saved your life. I could have let the she-Were kill you, but I didn't," he said.

"How many times are you going to wave that in my face? I didn't ask you to save me."

"But I did nonetheless, so you owe me. Or are you going back on your word?"

That was clever of him. I considered myself an honest person. My word was my bond, and all that. "I'm not sure how I'm supposed to help you," I admitted. "I didn't exactly break the case wide open."

"You've helped more than you realize," he said. "Tomorrow night, after dusk. I will pick you up from your home."

"But I have to work…" I glanced at Sam.

"Surely your shifter boss will give you a few days off to attend to our business."

"What do you want to do, Sook?" Sam asked after a pause.

He was behaving strangely. He wasn't acting nearly as protective as I figured he would. When Alcide grabbed me he didn't try to stop him, and when I fell on my ass he didn't offer to help me up as he normally would have done. What was going on with him?

It was nice that Sam trusted me enough to let me make my own decisions and wasn't trying to boss me around, but now I had no excuse to avoid Eric. "I guess I'll honor our agreement," I said to the vamp.

"Then I will see you tomorrow."

I had been dismissed. It was what I wanted, but I was a little stung by his abruptness.

* * *

The ride to Bon Temps passed quickly. Neither Sam or I said much; we were both brooding. I was thinking about Bethany, and poor Ginger (whatever had become of her) and Eric, of course. He wasn't the type of person that was easy to forget.

Shouldn't I be dealing with post traumatic stress? I was disemboweled, almost killed, but I felt pretty normal. Maybe I was in shock. Or maybe Eric's blood had done something to me beyond amplifying my abilities.

Sam parked in front of my house and put his truck in neutral. "Night, Sook," he said, sounding distracted.

"What's going on with you?" I asked.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "I'm a shapeshifter, but even when I'm in my human form my senses are heightened."

"Okay," I said. I couldn't figure out where he was going.

"Lust smells a certain way. So does anger and fear. Certain emotions make the body emit distinctive scents."

The fact that Sam had heightened senses wasn't a revelation, but the fact that he could smell my emotions was a new one. I had no idea I'd been advertising my feelings for all these years.

"You must have smelled something when I was around Eric," I said. There was no use in denying I was attracted to the vamp, since Sam's nose had already detected it.

He seemed reluctant as he went on. "I think you'll be safe with him. Right now he needs you, and he'll think of you as a tool he might need in the future. He'll keep you safe from the other vampires and the mess he's pulled you into."

I didn't want Eric to view me as a tool. I wasn't sure how I wanted him to view me, but that definitely wasn't it.

"He protected you from Alcide," said Sam. "And he helped you up when you fell down."

"So that's why you didn't step in? You were watching Eric to see how he would react?"

Sam nodded. "I can't be with you all hours of the night and day. That means you'll have to be with Eric without me there to look after you. I wanted to make sure you'd be safe with him."

"And you think I will be?"

"Yes. But that doesn't mean you should lower your guard around him. He's a vampire, Sook. Vampires don't think like humans. They're a whole other species. Eric may seem alluring, but he's dangerous."

"Thanks, Sam," I said. He really was like an older brother to me. My own brother, Jason, wasn't nearly as good to me as Sam was.

"No problem."

I climbed out of the truck, but stopped when I reached my front porch. I turned and waved at Sam as he drove off.

Alone at last, I changed into a pair of pajamas and climbed into bed, all the while trying to purge Eric from my thoughts. Instead I ended up tossing and turning.

His blood had made my hormones fly out of control, I decided. This wasn't me; I was under the influence. But then again, I was attracted to him before I fed from him. I was attracted to him the moment he stepped foot in Merlotte's.

This didn't sit well with me, so each time I recalled the lust I felt toward him I purposely remembered the women I saw in Bethany's memories. I wouldn't be happy in a casual relationship, and that was all he'd ever want.

I was so busy obsessing over Eric that I noticed the mind too late. The mind was as snarly and staticky as before, and so full of rage I recoiled. It was startling, not only because of its intensity, but because of the loudness of it - it was like a radio with the volume blaring. I couldn't believe I missed it in the first place.

Immediately after I sensed the mind I heard the floor groan in the hall. It was dark, but my eyes had adjusted during the tossing and turning session.

A breath caught in my throat as a figure slipped into my room.


	3. Side Effects

Disclaimer—Sookie, Eric, and the other characters in this story are not owned by yours truly.

_Thanks for all the reviews and alerts! I love to hear from you guys! It makes my heart super happy!_

Chapter Three  
Side Effects

The figure who slipped into my room was Debbie. I recognized her mind from the first time she tried to kill me.

Ever since Gran died I kept a shotgun by my bed. I lived alone out in the middle of nowhere, and Bill, my closest neighbor, might not be able to hear me if I screamed. (I wasn't sure how acute vampire hearing was.) Even if he did, I doubted he would rush to my rescue. That meant I had to protect myself.

The shotgun was in my hand faster than I could think to grab it, and I pulled the trigger. The explosion was loud in the enclosed space, and my ears rang as the figure slammed into the wall and slid down.

I frantically searched for the little knob on the bedside lamp, wishing I had The Clapper. Eventually, after a panicked and clumsy search whereby I almost knocked the lamp off the table, I located the elusive knob and turned on the light.

The intruder was propped against the wall, her legs splayed out in front of her. She resembled a broken down doll, albeit a life-sized one. Blood had spread across her white blouse along her left shoulder. I couldn't see the wound for all the blood, but I didn't think I hit her straight on. Seemed more like a nick.

She fit Eric's description. Her hair was cut into a myriad of choppy layers, and she had a long horse face.

Her eyes were closed, and she didn't stir. She was either unconscious or she was playing possum. Just as I leveled the gun on her in case she actually _was_ playing possum, she grabbed the barrel. The gun flew, end over end, and landed near the window on the other side of the room.

She advanced on me, her body trembling with fury. I backed away, certain I was about to die. I would fight to the end, no matter how futile it was, but she would kill me. A human was no match for a Were.

"Why Alcide fucked you I'll never know," she said. "You're a dumb, slutty blonde, and from what I hear you're crazy, too. "

The harsh words cut through the fear that had overcome me - especially the crack about me being crazy - and I leapt on her, gouging at her eyes. If she couldn't see it would be a little harder for her to murder me. I might have a slim chance of survival.

My attack surprised her, and I was able to scratch both eyes before she threw me off. "Bitch!" she shouted, along with other slurs along that vein.

I scrambled for the gun and was an inch from touching it when Debbie body-slammed me. I belly flopped to the ground and thrashed against her, but she was straddling my back, yanking my head up in a move straight from the WWF. She slammed my forehead against the floor, and tiny, golden stars danced across my vision.

Our tussle had brought me that one inch closer to the gun, and I grabbed it, twisted round, and clubbed her with the butt. It was awkward because I couldn't see my target; I had to aim blindly and hope for the best. I hit flesh, and her grip slackened. I hit her once more, with all the strength I could muster. She shrieked and let go.

Before I could get to my feet she was on me again, throttling my neck. My lungs fought for air, but I couldn't breathe. It seemed all my blood was trapped in my face, and my lungs burned with more fervor. Her thumbs dug deeper into my throat, making tendrils of pain zip through my body. One more second and I would either pass out from lack of oxygen or she would break my neck.

On instinct I reached out for her mind and squeezed. I felt part of it give way, like a soft meat crushing under the pressure of my telepathy. I could have been squashing a raw hamburger patty.

Debbie screeched, pawed at her head, and dashed back and forth. The way she swiped at her head reminded me of the time Jason accidentally knocked down a bee hive. He dashed around in much the same fashion as the bees stung him.

Blood poured from her nose in twin rivulets. There was also something wet and pink oozing from her ears.

My telepathy had always been a passive power. Sure, I entered minds, but it was never harmful. Whatever I had done to Debbie had caused pain, and even worse, might have caused permanent damage. I recalled the feel of her mind crushing beneath my power and shuddered. If I pressed harder could I have made her a drooling idiot? Could I have given her a lobotomy? I'd never done anything like this, and I wondered if I could always do it (I'd never tried before) or if it was a side effect of Eric's blood. My telepathy had been much stronger since I drank it.

"Don't make me hurt you again," I warned. I grabbed the shotgun, holding on tight in case she tried to snatch it from me again. "Get down on your knees."

At first I didn't think she would comply, but seeing the gun must have sobered her. Rage emanated from her in waves. She dug her nails into her palms until a couple of her nails broke in two. I watched the little moon shaped fragments fall to the floor.

Standing over her like I was, with the shotgun trained on her, I realized two things. One: I loathed Debbie more than anyone I'd ever known, and yet I couldn't bring myself to kill her, even though this was the second time she tried to kill me. I wasn't sure if that made me a decent person or a foolish person. And two: I had been surprisingly fast and strong for a human. Eric's blood must have increased my physical capabilities as well as my telepathic ones.

I expected more curses from her, but she kept quiet, her jaw set in a stubborn line. One of her pupils was dilated much larger than the other. Wasn't that a sign of head trauma? Another sign was vomiting, but she hadn't puked yet and she didn't seem nauseous. I figured I would be the one more likely to vomit, because the idea that I'd given her a psychic lobotomy made me ill.

That was when I heard a loud rapping on the window behind me. I was afraid to turn to see who it was; Debbie might use my distraction to her advantage and attack me. So I kept my gaze firmly planted on her and used my telepathy instead. The mind I brushed against was familiar, and as blank and silent as it had always been.

I was surprised Bill was rapping at my window. In the time he'd lived across the cemetery we'd only exchanged a half dozen words. It occurred to me why he was rapping - he couldn't enter unless invited. But should I invite him? He had never seemed dangerous, but he was a vampire, which meant he had a propensity for extreme violence, especially against humans.

After a little more mulling I decided to invite him in. I could always rescind if he tried anything funny.

The instant the invitation was spoken he pulled up the window. He nodded as he entered my line of sight. "Miss Stackhouse," he said. His southern accent made him sound refined. Some people with southern accents sound like country bumpkins, but that wasn't the case with him.

"Hey, Bill," I said, thinking how bizarre it was that we were having such a polite conversation while I had a shotgun aimed at Debbie's face.

"Are you hurt?" He scrutinized me, searching for wounds, and I took the opportunity to scrutinize him as well. He was striking, though his face was a bit gaunt, as if he was underfed. His hair was thick and dark, and he had the body of a man who spent lots of time working hard outdoors. I wondered what his profession was during his human life.

"I'm okay I think. Maybe a bruise or two. What are you doing here?"

He showed a pale finger. "One minute and I'll explain." A cell phone was at his ear, and he spoke too lowly for me to eavesdrop. The call was brief, and the phone disappeared again. "The sheriff requested I watch over you. When I heard the gunshot I came as fast as I could."

"What sheriff?"

"Eric Northman."

I took a moment to let that marinate. Debbie certainly wasn't going to make a move, not with a shotgun and a vampire pointed at her.

"So you're saying that Eric is what? Your boss? And he ordered you to be my bodyguard?"

If Bill was supposed to be my bodyguard, then he was a terrible one. Why hadn't he stopped Debbie from breaking into my house in the first place? If he'd been standing vigil he could have scared her off before she stepped foot on my property.

"You were attacked before. Eric was concerned it might happen again, and rightly so." Bill glared at Debbie, and with a murderous intent that made my blood run cold. "Is this the same Were who attacked you before?"

"It's her," I said. "She disemboweled me."

"Why haven't you shot her yet?"

I blinked. "Are you recommending I shoot her?"

"I'm curious why you haven't, when she already tried to kill you twice."

"I'm not a murderer." My arms were getting tired from holding the gun in position. I figured it was safe to lower it, but I took a few steps back before resting it at my side. "What now?"

"Eric's contacting her packmaster. Someone will be here shortly to pick her up."

"What'll the pack do to her?"

"That's up to them. They disapprove of Weres attacking humans, especially humans that are under Eric's protection. Relations between the vampires and the Weres are already strained."

There was an entire supe political world I had no idea about. Alcide had never spoken of his pack dealings. I'd sensed he never told me because he considered me an outsider, and I never pried.

"I thought Colonel Flood already knew Debbie attacked me."

"He was informed. He was skeptical, but now he can't deny it any longer. We caught her in your house." He flashed fang at Debbie, and it seemed to be a knee-jerk gesture. Maybe vamps instinctively flashed their fangs at people they disliked. "Did you know Alcide was married when you entered the affair?"

The query startled me, partially because it came out of the blue, and partially because it was a private matter. But I found myself answering him anyhow. "No. Earlier today his wedding ring fell out of his pocket. I broke up with him on the spot."

It was clear Debbie didn't believe it, but her rage had so engulfed her she couldn't see logic or reason. If she had to face a human court for the attacks against me her lawyer would have pleaded temporary insanity. I doubted her insanity was anything but temporary, though. She must have known I was under Eric's protection, but she attacked me anyhow.

The silence burgeoned, and the adrenalin pumping through me waned. I grew fatigued, and my bruises began to ache more than before. I wanted Debbie out of my house. I wanted to have a good night's sleep without worrying the she-Were would come after me.

Bill wasn't the loquacious type, and I was glad for that. I wasn't in the mood for talk. The room became silent, with an undercurrent of tension. That tension would fade the second Debbie was gone.

When I heard a car engine I went out front to meet the Weres the packmaster had sent. They were brothers, judging by their similar facial features and burly physiques, and each had long, copper colored beards.

"You Sookie?" one of them asked. He didn't seem particularly impressed by me, judging by the flavor of his mind.

I confirmed I was Sookie and led them to the bedroom. They looked at Debbie, who was still on her knees - shot in the shoulder, her left eye swollen shut, with drying blood under her nose - and then at me. Besides the angry bruises around my neck and a goose egg on my forehead, I barely had a scratch.

"You sure Debbie came after you?" one asked.

"She did," Bill said. "I witnessed most of it."

How long had he been knocking on my window? I'd been so focused on surviving I'd probably missed the sounds. Did he notice the psychic mind squeeze? And if so, would he report what he saw to Eric? Probably. Eric was his boss, and a sheriff, of all things. I was too tired to ponder how crazy that sounded.

"Sure," said the Were, but he wasn't convinced. He turned on Debbie and let loose a growl that made every hair on my arms stand up. Debbie cringed.

"Get your ass moving," said the other Were, in a voice that was more growl than speak, and she jumped up so quick she was a blur. Usually I would have been offended by his chauvinism, but Debbie deserved it. More growls resounded as the Weres shoved her down the hall and out of my house. I didn't fully relax until they were gone.

"I'm to stand guard the rest of the night. I'll be outside if you need me," Bill said.

The night was chilly, and even though vampires aren't bothered by temperature I was still uncomfortable with the thought of him skulking around in the cold. I considered letting him stay inside but thought better of it. He had rushed to my rescue (albeit a little late) but he was a vamp. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said, and I smiled. It was nice to encounter a vampire who had manners.

Bill turned to leave, but I stopped him. "Can I ask a question?"

He nodded.

"I drank Eric's blood. Is that why I'm stronger than I usually am?"

"Yes. It will fade eventually."

So Eric had saved me twice. Once literally, when my guts were spilling out, and the second time indirectly through the power of his blood. "Is he usually so protective of his…employees?" I had no other word to describe my relationship with him.

"Not usually, at least not to this extent," Bill said. "He usually doesn't donate his blood, either. When you were hurt Pam could have donated, but he did so himself. You must intrigue him."

"I have a feeling he gets bored easily when it comes to women, so I'm not flattered." But I was. I was lying through my teeth.

"You should rest," he said, cutting off the conversation before I could nose more information from him.

Since I was tired I decided not to press. Bill left my room with preternatural silence.

For a while I gawked at the bullet hole (actually, it was about the size of a dinner plate) in the wall. Why hadn't it even crossed my mind that Debbie might attack me again? There was a super strong she-Were who wanted to rip off my limbs and play with them. I had been much more interested in my libido than a threat against my life.

And why wasn't I terrified? Instead, I was strangely calm. What _had_ Eric's blood done to me?

Gradually the adrenalin rush diminished altogether. I fell asleep as soon as my head found the pillow.

* * *

Eric's long legs were propped up on his desk and his arms were folded behind his head. He watched me take a seat on a nearby couch, casting me a look that made me feel stripped to the bone.

I wore the blue cashmere turtleneck Gran bought me for Christmas a couple of years back, and it was pulling double duty. It was keeping me warm, and it covered the bruise necklace Debbie gave me the night prior. Those bruises, oddly enough, were already yellowed as if they were days old. And the other nicks and scrapes had healed altogether, including the goose egg. Super fast healing must have been yet another side effect of drinking vampire blood.

Earlier I called and told him I would prefer drive myself into Shreveport. Having my own ride would be a smart move. Then I wouldn't have to depend on Eric to drive me back home. Eric agreed, though he'd sounded reluctant.

He was suddenly beside me, and I jumped. I hated it when he did that. My puny human eyes couldn't follow his movements when he moved that fast. "Let me see your neck," he demanded.

"It's no big deal."

"I want to see for myself whether it's a big deal or not."

I pulled down the collar, resigned to the fact that he would never relent unless I acquiesced.

He examined the bruises with a scowl. "Tell me what happened."

I gave him a brief version of events in the coolest tone I could muster, but edited out the psychic mind squeeze. I didn't want him to know what I was really capable of with his blood in my system. Besides, the nasty power would vanish as soon as the blood wore off.

While I explained, I tried to hide the fact that I was on the verge of tears. Too much had happened too quickly in the last couple of days, and it was catching up with me. It was odd that I hadn't had a meltdown already. Between Alcide breaking my heart and almost being killed twice, one would think I would be in worse shape than I was.

Eric patted my leg rather awkwardly, as if comforting someone was alien to him. "Would you like me to kill her?"

My mouth dropped open. "What?"

"I could kill her for you." He repeated slowly, drawing out the words.

"I don't want you to kill her. Besides, that would cause a major conflict with the pack wouldn't it?"

"I'm not scared of werewolves," he said, and waved a hand dismissively. "I doubt she'll listen to the packmaster, even if he does tell her to stay away from you. She's a willful woman. She won't stop until you're dead."

That was a terrifying notion. Debbie, attacking me again and again, never quitting until my heart had stopped beating. Until then, I was comforted knowing the pack was dealing with the situation. Now I wasn't comforted at all. "You think?"

"I'm an excellent judge of character."There was a seductive lilt to his voice, and he looked like he wanted to bite me and rub all over me.

His lips were dangerously near, and I had an urge to lick them. How would it feel if he spread that big, beautiful body over mine? Alarmed at the depth of lust he incited, I scrambled back, putting as much space between us as possible.

He soon filled that space, until I was cornered against the couch arm. His hair was down, and I knew it would be silky under my fingertips, if I was ever bold enough (or stupid enough) to actually run my fingers through it.

"Would you like me to touch you? Taste you?"

I shoved at his chest, but I might as well have been shoving a boulder. He didn't budge. "No, I most definitely don't want that, Eric."

"You've had my blood. That means I can feel what you feel. You're aroused."

Okay, that was an embarrassing side effect I wished I'd known before now. My arousal cooled almost immediately, especially when I recalled his many conquests in Bethany's memories. "You're suffocating me. Please back off."

Surprise flickered across his face, and then he moved away. "As you wish." His tone was without inflection, completely flat.

I wondered how many women he bedded a week. One every night? Two a night? Two at a time? Three at a time? I was sure he could have any combination he desired, which only fueled my resolve to never be a notch on his bedpost.

"What am I supposed to do tonight?" I asked.

"I've contacted someone who might be able to help us. She'll be here soon."

Eric's cell rang (he didn't have a ring tone, I noted) and he answered with an abrupt, "Yes?"

After listening for a while he stepped out in the hall. Maybe he didn't want me to overhear. Almost simultaneously, Pam strode in wearing a Morticia Addams style dress. I nodded a greeting, but she didn't nod back. Oh, well. I couldn't expect everyone to like me.

"The master told us that you are off limits," she said.

"Off limits?" I asked.

She smirked. It was so similar to Eric's smirk I wondered how long they had known one another. Long enough to adopt similar body language, at least. "The master has told everyone that you are his. Is this true? Are you his?" Her voice was as dry as it always was, but she was definitely poking fun at Eric.

"I'm not," I said, perhaps too quickly. I was insulted he'd claimed me as if I was a possession, but I was secretly pleased by it, too. Or maybe not so secretly, considering he could sense my feelings.

"Most women would have already had sex with the master. Why haven't you?"

"I only met him yesterday," I pointed out. "And he has about a million notches on his bedpost. "

"You mean he gets around?" Pam asked, making air quotations when she said _gets around_. "Why is that a problem? He has experience. He knows how to pleasure a woman."

"Maybe that's true, but that's not the point. When I have sex I make love. There's an emotional connection. Any animal can go through the motions. I'm looking for something beyond that."

Pam opened her mouth to reply, but Eric interrupted. "Pam, that's enough," he said, but he seemed amused.

She took her leave, and I started inching toward the door after her. I managed to creep out into the hall before he stopped me. "Where are you going, Miss Stackhouse?" He'd done that thing again, where he was behind me one second and right in front of me the next. I almost rammed into his chest.

"Out to the bar until your contact arrives."

"She's already arrived."

Just then a petite woman rounded the corner and approached us. She could have been a suburban housewife, with her short, chestnut hair and demure wardrobe. Pam walked beside her, leering at her in a way that made me think Pam wanted her on the menu.

She was a serious broadcaster, so I swiftly learned all about her. Her name was Amelia Broadway. Amelia lived in New Orleans, but drove to Shreveport for the meeting because Eric offered her serious cash. She was trained in the art of witchcraft by her mentor, Octavia Fant. She swung both ways. She thought Eric was a "hottie", and this was the first time she'd ever met him.

The thing that caught my attention most was the fact that she was a witch. Of course, I shouldn't have been amazed that witches existed. I already knew about vampires, werewolves, and shapeshifters. I was beginning to believe that Big Foot, Nessie, and little green men were probably real, too.

Introductions were made, and we settled into Eric's office. Amelia was excited about the meeting. She was hoping there would be some action so she could stretch her magical muscles. I had to fortify my shields. It was difficult paying attention to the business at hand with her thoughts invading my head.

"I need a list of every known coven in the state of Louisiana, and every member you're aware of," said Eric. Clearly he wasn't a fan of the _getting to know you bullshit_, as Quentin Tarantino so aptly phrased it. He set a piece of paper and a pen in front of Amelia, who was in a chair before his desk. "Male witches in particular."

So Eric suspected the kidnapper was a male witch. The man _had_ whispered something, and Ginger had fallen asleep. Maybe the whisper was an incantation. And maybe he was the one that messed with Bethany's memories.

"Why?" Amelia asked.

Eric's expression was one of supreme impatience. He expected his minions to obey the instant he made an order, and he didn't appreciate questions.

I jumped in before he could say anything rude. "We think a male witch kidnapped one of the waitresses that works here."

"Miss Stackhouse," cautioned Eric.

But I had seen deeply into Amelia's mind and knew she wasn't involved. "The witch – if he was a witch – manipulated another woman's memories. They were blurry and distorted," I went on.

Now Amelia appraised me shrewdly. "And how do you know what her memories looked like?"

I should have realized my little speech would reveal my freaky talent. "I'm a telepath."

"Really?" she asked, intrigued. "That must be incredible."

"It's not."

She eyed me for a bit longer, then shrugged. "Whatever you say." She turned back to Eric. "There's a new coven in town. I wouldn't be surprised if they were behind it, but I'll write out your list."

"What coven are you referring to?" he asked.

"Hallow and her brother Mark run the coven, and there are about a dozen members. They travel so much they're practically nomads. I only mention them because they have a shady reputation."

"How long have they been in town?"

"A couple of months," she said, and nibbled on the end of the pen. "I'm not sure how to get in touch with them, but I can find out."

"Do so," he said.

Amelia nodded and began writing with a quick hand. When she was through, Eric commandeered the list. "That will be all for now."

"That's it?" she asked. Her disappointment was obvious.

"For now. Find out more about the witches you mentioned. And find a hotel. I will need you within the next few days."

She was a restless ball of energy, and that restlessness was spreading to me. I suggested she check out the bar, and she practically skipped out of Eric's office, leaving the smell of lavender behind.

"Amelia could be a problem," I told him. "She's like a soldier without a war, raring for a fight."

He leaned back and rested his chin on a curled finger. I had never seen him look so introspective. "I want you to continue to work for me, once this is all over."

"I already have a job," I said.

"By my side, you would make triple what you make at Merlotte's. Plus full benefits."

_By my side_, he'd said, like we would rule a kingdom together. His arrogance knew no bounds. Yet the woman in me that wanted a big, strong caveman was flattered. The feminist in me quickly reared for a thorough scolding.

"What is it that you do exactly?" I asked. "Do you have a powerful position in the vampire world?" I'd been wondering this since Bill mentioned Eric was a sheriff.

"I'm the sheriff of Area 5."

"So you run a territory that's all your own. Who's above you on the food chain?"

"You'll learn that information the instant you become my permanent employee."

I'd smacked right into a brick wall. There were way too many brick walls with Eric. "Then I guess it'll have to remain a mystery."

Meanwhile, I made a mental note to ask Sam about the vampire power structure. Sam was a loner, but he had a storehouse of knowledge concerning the supe world.

His cell phone rang again. This time when he answered, he said, "This is Eric."

The conversation was spattered with guttural, one syllable words. I retrieved the romance novel I'd stowed in my purse and began to read. I heard him end the call, but I was so involved in the story I didn't glance up.

"Why do you read that drivel?" he asked.

"It's not drivel. It's passionate. Romantic."

"It's unrealistic nonsense."

Was he baiting me? He certainly enjoyed winding me up to see how I would react. He was a damn good button pusher, but I refused to play his games. "To each his own, I guess," I said, and kept my eyes on the book.

"That was Colonel Flood on the phone," he said.

That made me snap my head up, but I hesitated before drilling him with questions. I wasn't sure if I should ask Eric about his affairs. Was he like Michael Corleone in _The_ _Godfather_ movies? Then again, I had every right in the world to ask if their conversation concerned me. "Was he calling about Debbie?"

"She disappeared. He says she won't be back because she fears pack punishment."

"But you don't think so."

"Her mind is set. She wants you dead."

Our eyes met. We had very little in common; we weren't even the same species - if vampires were actually considered a separate species. But the one thing we had in common was chemistry. It was almost a solid thing between us. A warm shiver spread to the tips of my fingers and toes, and my heart did a jig.

The moment couldn't have been weirder or more inappropriate. A psycho Were was after me, but I was strangely blasé about that fact, so blasé I was undressing Eric with my eyes rather than worrying about being gutted. What in the hell was wrong with me? And hadn't I been angry at him a moment ago?

"I'll go check on Amelia. She strikes me as the kind of person who gets into trouble," I said, and made my escape.

Amelia, as it turned out, was in an animated conversation with Pam. I didn't want to interrupt so I found a booth and opened up my book again. Eric hadn't said I was off the clock, so to speak, so I figured he needed me to stick around.

I wasn't alone for long. Eric soon joined me and beckoned for a waitress.


	4. In Too Deep

Disclaimer—Sookie, Eric, and the other characters in this story are not owned by yours truly.

Thanks for all the reviews and alerts! Feedback encourages the muse.

Sorry for the double posting. I messed up and all the text was in italics. Oops.

Chapter Four  
In Too Deep

The waitress rushed right over and asked what I wanted.

"Gingerale, please, Ma'am." I would have to drive home, and I didn't like drinking and driving. The waitress gave me a funny look but hurried off.

"Debbie disappeared," I said quickly, before Eric could speak first. His baby blues had a mischievous cast, and I had a feeling he was about to pour on the charm again. "How did that happen?"

"Colonel Flood claimed he ordered a few Weres to watch her. It was to be a temporary arrangement until the pack could gather for her punishment today. Somehow she escaped. But that sounds...fishy to me."

Yes, it did sound fishy. Weres had extraordinary senses; they would have caught her sneaking off. It was more likely someone helped her. _Alcide, probably_, I thought. Maybe he distracted the guards while Debbie fled. He wouldn't want his wife to be punished by the pack, now would he? Bitterness and anger churned my belly.

"I would be dead twice over if it wasn't for your blood," I said. "It's made me stronger, and I heal faster. What other side effects are there?"

The mischievous glint in his baby blues intensified. "Your libido will increase."

I was already aware of that. Half the time I wanted to pounce on Eric and have my way with him. I was attracted to him, sure, but I'm not the kind of woman who immediately wants to jump in bed with a man, no matter how attractive. His blood had been stirring up my lust.

Eric slung an arm over the back of the booth. "Your speech about sex and emotional connections was heartwarming." He sounded as if he thought it was the opposite. "I can show you what it's like to have animal sex, as you call it, and you would enjoy it thoroughly."

"I doubt that. I'm not into empty sex."

The waitress returned with my drink, and I sipped, though I wanted to gulp. I was suddenly nervous - and aroused yet again - with Eric mentioning the possibility of sex between us. I was all the more uncomfortable with my emotional state knowing he was sensing everything.

"It would be pleasurable. Why would you not want to experience pleasure?"

"I'm sure you've had hundreds of women over your long life, and I'm not going to be just another human who did it with you."

"If you did it with me, you would _not_ be just another woman." He cracked a smile that was charming to the nth degree.

I frowned. "Next you're going to say I'm special, right? Give it up, Eric. I'm not going to sleep with you."

"But I arouse you."

I let that one hang in the air untouched.

"You feel happy around me."

I let that one hang untouched as well. When I wasn't irked with him, I _was_ happy around him.

"I amuse you."

I kept my mouth sealed. He had made me smile or chuckle several times.

"You find me attractive, I make you happy, and I make you laugh," he summarized. "Aren't these the qualities women want in a lover?"

The Gingerale was gone, and the waitress asked if I wanted another. I told her no. "We aren't going to talk about this," I said, once the waitress had hurried off again.

"Why shouldn't we discuss it? Don't women want honest and upfront communication?"

The words seemed so foreign to him I almost laughed. He might have been parroting something he heard on _Oprah_.

"I can't communicate like that with you," I said.

"Why?"

"Because you might get angry."

"I see. What if I promise not to get angry?"

Perhaps I just wanted to shut him up, because I decided to answer. I was going to tell him I didn't trust him. That he was a domineering man-slut. How irritating it was when he derided humans, and how I couldn't sleep with someone who had no respect for my species. I was going to tell him that rather than befriending me, he was either ordering me around or outright trying to seduce me.

But I wasn't able to say any of those things. A gorgeous woman had sashayed over to the booth.

Because Eric's blood had amplified my telepathy, it was as if her thoughts were shouting, and I soon knew the whole story swirling in her head. Even worse, her thoughts were so saturated with a naked Eric I wanted to poke out my mind's eye. This woman had been with him in every manner possible, and she wanted more. He'd recently cooled toward her, and she was nervous he meant to dump her soon. Yet, from the outside she exuded a confident sexuality.

"Hey," she said, posing so her cleavage was nearly bouncing out of her dress. She could have been a Playboy bunny, with her wavy, brunette hair, green eyes, pouty lips, and perfect figure. If this was the type of woman Eric rejected, then he would surely only want a one-nighter with me. I wasn't any where near the same league as the brunette.

"Sookie, this is Willa. Willa, Sookie." He seemed annoyed Willa had interrupted our conversation.

Willa gave me a baleful stare that would have angered me off if I wasn't able to read her mind. Beneath the bravado she was scared. "I was curious if you want to see me tonight."

"You're a beautiful woman, but we're not right for each other," he said. He was delicate, but firm. I wondered how many women had heard that same line. He certainly said it with the ease of one who had said it many times before.

Her eyes widened. She couldn't believe a man was saying no; as beautiful as she was it had never happened before. She was deeply hurt, and I knew tears were on the horizon for her.

"Maybe our paths will cross again," she said. From the outside she appeared perfectly calm, but the inside was a maelstrom of emotions.

I see the worst in people when I look into their minds. The disturbing things they want to do, but never will. The hateful things they think but never say. All their dirty secrets, all the skeletons in their closet. But I also see how truly vulnerable we all are - the fragility behind the masks we wear to protect ourselves from a cruel world.

Willa headed for the ladies room. Her pace picked up the closer she was to the entrance, and she was in a half run by the time she vanished inside. I slid out of the booth.

"Where are you going?" Eric asked.

I rolled my eyes and went into the ladies, feeling his gaze follow me until I, too, had vanished from sight.

Her weeping reverberated off the tiled walls in surround sound. This was a full-on ugly cry like I'd done after finding Alcide's wedding ring. "Willa?" I called, after a hesitation.

"What? Who's there?"

"Sookie."

She didn't say anything, but her sobbing petered out.

"Are you okay?"

She wanted to talk to someone, but I wasn't her favorite person at the moment. Not only had I witnessed Eric rejecting her, but she assumed I was his flavor of the week. "I'm not with Eric, you know. I think he's a big dog and I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole," I said. That wasn't quite true, but I wanted her to feel comfortable.

She laughed. Just a bit, but it was progress. I had been in her shoes when I realized what a pig Alcide was. Women should stick together, especially when it came to the bad guys.

Willa emerged from the stall, and despite the mascara smears she'd fallen back on that confident facade she wore so well. "I'm an idiot," she said, and began to wipe the mascara stains from her cheeks with a paper towel. "I knew what I was getting into with him. He didn't make any promises or lie to me. He told me exactly what he wanted me for. I was the one who wanted to believe he didn't mean it."

I disapproved of Eric's Casanova ways, but at least he hadn't lied to her. He told her the terms beforehand.

"You wouldn't believe how many women he has relations with," she said. "The others warned me about him."

"Was he as honest with them as he was with you?"

"He's as blunt as they come." She threw the toilet paper in an overflowing trash can. "I need to get out of here."

"Want me to call a cab?"

"No, I'm not drunk and I have my own ride."

Now she barely looked as if she'd cried at all. I wished I could look so perfect after a tear fest. She patted me on the shoulder before slinking out of the bathroom.

I returned to the booth to find Eric gone. I stared at the place where he'd been and wished he was still there, in spite of the things Willa told me. If he followed his typical MO maybe he wouldn't lie to me. Maybe with Eric what you see is what you get. Not like Alcide, who had deceived me on a daily basis for half a year.

Glum suddenly, I thought about Debbie, and how scared I was when she was throttling my neck. I thought about Alcide's wedding ring rolling under my bed. And of course, I thought about Eric. It seemed my mind had one track, and that track led directly to him.

He would never want anything more than a one night stand with me. I doubted he was even capable of maintaining a long term relationship. He was using me all the way around. He was using me for my telepathic ability, and if he had the chance, would use me for sex, too. Granted, he might explain in advance what his intentions were, but that didn't make them acceptable.

I wouldn't sit around Fangtasia all night at his beck and call. It was clear he no longer needed me. With that decided, I went to his office...and paused when I heard two male voices. One belonged to Eric. The other belonged to Bill.

"...could have killed her. Where were you?" This was Eric. His voice was frighteningly lethal.

"I couldn't enter the house. I had no invitation. I knocked on the window but Miss Stackhouse did not hear me." This was Bill. He sounded very calm in spite of Eric's lethal tone.

"You should have stopped the she-Were from entering the house before then."

That was precisely what I thought when I found out Bill was supposed to be my bodyguard.

"For further reference – if you ever allow anything to befall Miss Stackhouse when I have ordered you to protect her, _you_ will be the one in need of protection. From me," said Eric. There was a pause. Then: "We're aware you're listening."

Of course they did. Like I could spy on a couple of vamps unnoticed. I slipped inside, a bit embarrassed I was foolish enough to think I could get away with it. I was also a tad chagrined because I usually had better manners than that. If Gran was still alive she would have been shaking her head at me for eavesdropping on a private conversation. Even if I was the topic of discussion.

"Ma'am," said Bill, with a respectful nod.

"Bill."

"Why have you interrupted us?" asked Eric. His words were a little sharp.

"I would like to return home if you require nothing more of me this evening," I said.

"Very well," he said. "I will contact you in the next few days."

* * *

"What happens to a person when they drink vampire blood?" I asked Sam. I made certain my voice was low. Arlene was prejudice of vamps, and I didn't want her to realize I had Eric's blood in my system. Merlotte's was crowded, so I figured she wouldn't hear over all the other conversations taking place.

Three days had passed since I saw Eric, and I had returned to my regular routine. During the day I ran errands, did what I could to maintain the house, or visited Tara. At night I went to work, and when I came home Bill was skulking around my property. Debbie's whereabouts were still unknown, but Eric seemed to think she would be back for round three.

Sam was busy rearranging the money in the cash register. He preferred all the bills to face in the same direction. "You've noticed something different since it happened?" he asked. I sensed he knew the answer to my question but wanted me to be specific about what I was personally experiencing.

"Well, I'm stronger. And my freaky talent is, too. And I'm..." I trailed off. How could I admit to my boss that I was horny with a capital H? And not only that, how all of my fantasies involved a tall, blue eyed vamp?

I was twenty-six when I lost my virginity to Alcide. Before then I would get aroused as any hot-blooded woman would, but it was much easier to ignore since I didn't really understand what I was missing. Now I knew exactly what I was missing. Sometimes I wished I'd taken up Eric on his offer to touch me and taste me.

"You mean your sex drive," Sam said. He spoke with detachment, as if it was a clinical discussion. It made me feel more at ease. Then I realized he'd probably been smelling my lust and I wasn't so at ease anymore.

"Yes," I admitted.

"The blood can be an aphrodisiac. Works up a person's hunger." He closed the register, glanced around to check that everything was running smoothly, and invited me to his office.

We shut the door and there was silence. My shields were running full blast, but it took energy to maintain them. I let out a sigh. Occasionally I didn't notice how the thoughts were assaulting me until I was sheltered from them.

"Are you thinking of Eric? A lot?" he asked.

I nodded.

"That can happen. You've had his blood so there's a connection between the two of you now. Your body and mind will respond to him. It amps up everything, especially in relation to him."

"So it's just the blood and not me?"

"It won't heighten any feelings that aren't already there to begin with."

Which meant Eric's blood didn't cause the lust, it only sent it spinning out of control. "Great," I said, and fiddled with my pony tail. "Just great."

"He'll also be able to track you."

"Huh?" I asked. That certainly wasn't my most eloquent moment.

"He'll be able to find you no matter where you are. And if there's trouble he'll know that, too."

In one respect that was aggravating. My life was my own, and I didn't want Eric keeping tabs on me. In another respect it made me feel safer. Until Debbie was no longer an issue I could use all the protection I could get.

"How long until I'm back to my regular old self?"

"It can take weeks or months to wear off," said Sam. "It depends on how much blood you ingested and how powerful the vampire is."

I didn't have much experience with vamps, but I gathered Eric was powerful. I wasn't sure how much blood I ingested, but I figured I was probably going to have to suffer for the next few weeks. I stared down at my hands. I'd manicured them before work; I shaped my nails and slapped on some clear gloss. I'd done it to keep myself busy more than anything else. If I kept busy it was easier to ignore my surging hormones.

When I glanced back up Sam had gone stiff, but before I could ask what was wrong there was a knock on the door.

The mind on the other side of that door was vampire blank. Pam. What was she doing here? Whatever the reason I guessed I was about to be tangled up with the vampires again. Eric did mention he would contact me in a few days, and it had been a few days.

Sam invited the female vamp in, though he was unenthusiastic about it.

She barely gave him a glance. "We need your services, Human." She had yet to call me by my name. It was slightly offensive, but there was no point in correcting her. Pam wouldn't give a damn if I was offended or not.

"Why?" I asked.

"There's been a murder. There were witnesses."

Probably human witnesses I needed to probe with my freaky talent. "Who was murdered? Does this have to do with the other thing?"

"We must leave here as soon as possible." She finally addressed Sam. "You are aware the human and the sheriff have an arrangement. It would be unwise to interfere, Shifter."

"You don't have to threaten him," I cut in. I couldn't help but notice how he was gripping the side of his desk. If he gripped it much harder he'd rip a chunk out of it with his supernatural strength.

"Threats waste time. I only tell the truth as I see it." She waved a hand, and her diamond rings flashed with little rainbows.

"I'm not so easy to frighten," said Sam.

Merlotte's was crowded, but the night was winding down. If I left he wouldn't be too shorthanded. And I would rather stick to the agreement I had with Eric than cause a fight. "I'll go."

"Sook..."

"I'll call you if I need you," I assured him. "I'll be fine. I'm a tool Eric needs, remember?"

He glowered at Pam. His expression warned if anything bad happened to me he would seek vengeance. She smirked but said nothing, surprisingly enough.

I slung my purse over my shoulder. "I'm ready."

Together Pam and I left the office and strode through the bar. Arlene, Lafayette, Terry, and just about everyone else gawked at us. Some of them knew Pam was a vampire, but most of them were awed by her beauty and believed she was as human as me.

"I hope you don't have a weak stomach," she said, as we struck out into the night. "The murder was gruesome. Blood was spilled. Among other things."

_What other things?_, I wondered. Suddenly I wished I could run back into Merlotte's and have my life restored to the way it was.

But I couldn't do that. I was in too deep.


	5. I Fall To Pieces

Disclaimer—Sookie, Eric, and the other characters in this story are not owned by yours truly.

_Thanks for all the reviews and alerts! I love to hear from you guys!_

_Sorry for the delay. Lately I've barely had time to write my own name, much less work on this story. Hopefully I'll be able to update with more frequency after this, but I can't promise anything.  
_

Chapter Five

I Fall to Pieces

"Where are we?" I asked.

Pam had just directed her Mercedes into a parking lot. A handful of vehicles were parked near the entrance of an office type building…and there were a handful of Were minds nearby as well. I could feel them, fuzzy and staticky, through the walls, and they were all assembled in one area. There was a vampire mind, too, and I somehow knew it was Eric's.

"Eric will want to update you himself," she said.

Retorting was impossible, as Pam was out of the car in a jiff. She impatiently waited for me to pursue.

I pulled in a deep breath. Her comment about hoping I didn't have a weak stomach still haunted me. The imagination can cook up all sorts of horrifying scenarios, and usually those scenarios are worse than reality. I wasn't so sure if that was true in this case, though.

Into the building we went. I was greeted by a lobby with slate gray floors, a fountain, and fake plants strategically placed here and there. We crossed the lobby and entered a corridor. It was lined by doors, each with little plaques next to them. One was for an architect. Another was for a web designer. The third in the row was our destination. On the plaque it said: _Alfred Cumberland - Photographer_.

The first thing I saw was the photography equipment. The second thing I saw was all the blood. I wasn't sure how much blood was in the human body, but there had to be gallons. Most of it was splashed along the far wall. Mixed within the blood were fleshy bits that reminded me of tofu. But they weren't bits of tofu - they were bits of brain. My gorge rose, and I swiftly looked away.

A group of men were huddled around what I assumed was the body. I couldn't see through them to view it, but I did see a pair of feet poking out. They were clad in a pair of black kitten heels.

Eric was the tallest of the bunch, and thus the one I noticed first. Then my gaze swung to his left, and my heart stopped for a second.

_Alcide_. What in the hell was he doing here? Maybe I should have guessed he would be in attendance considering all the Were minds I'd sensed. I should have examined all the minds before stepping foot in the building, but since there were several I hadn't bothered to try to identify any of them. That was stupid of me.

I was suddenly inundated with too many disparate emotions; I couldn't decide whether to puke, or to be furious, or to cry. Eric was on me in a second, shielding my view of Alcide, who was glaring at me as if _I'd_ somehow wronged _him_. How had I never noticed what a bastard he really was?

"Sookie," said Eric.

"I'm fine," I lied. "Just give me some air."

He stepped back a couple of paces but didn't step aside, thank goodness. His body still shielded my view of Alcide.

"Pam," he said, and sharper than I'd ever heard him speak to her. "Did you inform Miss Stackhouse Alcide would be here? Did you explain anything?"

"I was under the impression you wanted to brief her yourself."

But I knew she had purposely left me in the dark. Maybe toying with me was entertaining for her. Maybe waiting for my reaction to gallons of blood, and tofu brains, and my bastard ex had been fun for her.

Eric began speaking in a language I couldn't understand. His tone was as sharp as before, and when Pam responded in the same language she sounded properly kowtowed.

"I am sorry I did not brief you beforehand," she said, her voice tight.

Was she talking to me? I wanted to look over my shoulder. She had to be addressing a person standing behind me.

When someone apologized my knee jerk reaction was to say, _No problem_, or _It's okay_, and I even opened my mouth to do so. But then I thought, _This is not okay_. _She purposely did this to hurt me._

"Your apology is not accepted. And if you ever call me Human again, instead of my name, I'll have something to say about that, too."

Pam seemed as though she was about to share a few choice words with me, but instead she stalked off, probably because Eric would reprimand her again if she did anything nasty.

"No human has ever mouthed off to Pam and survived," said Eric.

That gave me a chill. I already had a psycho Were after me. I didn't much like the idea of adding a vampire to the collection. "Is she going to come after me now?"

"Not unless she wants to be punished severely," he said. "And Pam is too loyal to disobey me. She knows she isn't allowed to harm you."

"Right. Because I'm off limits. Because I'm _yours,_" I wasn't exactly angry at Eric at that moment, but I needed to vent and he was the closest target. "As if I'm your possession, your-"

"As much as I would enjoy a tongue-lashing, I do believe we have business to attend to," he cut in.

This wasn't the time or place for this argument, I realized. The Weres were staring at us – I was making a scene. "Fine. What do I need to know?"

"The photographer who rents this office, Alfred Cumberland, had an assistant, a she-Were named Maria-Star Cooper. According to Alfred, he walked to the coffee shop down the block and when he returned he heard two gun shots. He hid in the restroom across the hall, but left the door slightly ajar. He saw a man exit the photography studio and move down the hall toward the lobby. After he was sure the man had left, he went in to check on Maria-Star and saw she was shot in the head."

That was the reason for the blood and brains on the wall, of course.

"So you have a witness then. Why am I here?"

"He said the man wore a ski mask, but you have seen the male witch in a memory. You haven't seen his face, but maybe you'll recognize his walk or his bearing. You can confirm if it's the same man who kidnapped Ginger."

"Why would you think it could be the same man? The man who took Ginger didn't use a gun."

"I spoke with Miss Broadway when I learned the details of the murder. She said if the witch used a form of mind control on Ginger, it might not have worked on a Were. Human minds and Were minds are different, as you know. He would have brought a weapon in case he could not manipulate the she-Were so easily."

"You don't think he intended to murder her. You think he meant to kidnap her like he kidnapped Ginger, and things got out of hand."

"That is what I suspect."

This account told me a few things. If the killer walked right by the photographer then he wasn't a Were. A Were would have smelled him (a door would not have masked the photographer's scent) and probably would have killed him as well. Vamps didn't use guns, so that was off the table. And finally, if Amelia's theory was correct then this guy had no experience using mind control on Weres. Otherwise he already would have known whether his mind control would work on Maria-Star or not.

Unless he simply meant to abduct her at gunpoint. But I wasn't sure if this was a failed kidnapping or a case of cold-blooded murder.

"Where is Mr. Cumberland?" I asked.

"I will escort you to him. He did not want to stay in the same room as the body."

I couldn't blame Mr. Cumberland for that, not at all.

Eric offered an arm. I hesitated, then took it. I didn't care to admit it, but I instantly felt calmer with our bodies touching.

We were almost out the door when someone spoke. I didn't recognize the voice, but I recognized the man. He was tall and slender with a military type buzz cut and a well trimmed mustache. Alcide had once described his packmaster, Colonel Flood, and the Were fit the description.

"This is the mind reader? The one who's been cheating with Alcide?"

The calmness Eric's touch offered shattered instantly. Not only had Colonel Flood spoken to Eric rather than me, but he implied I knowingly had an affair with Alcide. And he had called me a mind reader to boot, which I didn't much appreciate.

"I'm standing right here," I snapped. "And for your information I didn't know Alcide was married. If I did I wouldn't have looked twice at him."

"Sure, Honey," said Colonel Flood, and rather dismissively.

I knew his kind. He was a misogynist, and whenever he saw a bosomy blonde he immediately thought she was stupid.

My anger kicked up another notch, but before I could reply Eric interjected. "Address her as Miss Stackhouse if you want your head to remain on your shoulders. She is not your _honey_."

The packmaster's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. "If Miss Stackhouse is about to do whatever it is she does, I want to be there. Maria-Star was pack."

I saw genuine grief in his eyes, and I sensed it in his mind. My anger went down a tick, but only by a tick. "I don't care if you're there or not." I sounded tired and as if I was on my last nerve. "As long as you stay quiet and don't interfere."

He didn't much like a woman giving him orders, but he agreed. Then he turned round and made a motion…and Alcide broke away from the huddle of Weres and joined him.

I could have objected, but if I did Eric and Colonel Flood would quarrel. Eric would defend me if I said I didn't want Alcide with us (if only to stir up trouble, as he seemed to enjoy provoking the Weres) and Colonel Flood would insist on bringing Alcide along. I wanted out of the building, away from the blood and the brain bits and the body I hadn't yet seen. Best to ignore Alcide, do my job, and go on home. So I said nothing as Eric guided me down the hall and to another office.

Alfred Cumberland was a black man with gray in his hair. "Is this about over?" he asked.

"Almost," said Colonel Flood. His mind blared distrust. Did he think the photographer shot Maria-Star?

Mr. Cumberland _was_ terrified. Was it because of what happened or because he was the shooter and was afraid the Weres would find out? Since he was human, and my freaky talent was amped up from Eric's blood, I learned the answer quickly. I didn't even have to ask any leading questions to provoke the appropriate memories since everything he'd experienced was at the forefront of his thoughts.

"His account of what happened is true," I said.

I had seen Maria-Star in his mind. She was a pretty, dark-haired Were with light brown eyes. She seemed to smile and laugh a lot. And someone had killed her. I had swiftly turned my telepathy away when Mr. Cumberland was about to see the body. That was best left a mystery.

"The man in the ski mask?" asked Eric.

"I can't tell who it was. Mr. Cumberland only had a quick glance of him. It could be anyone, though he was definitely male. And it looked like Maria-Star might have fought him before she was shot. His shirt was ripped."

"This is it?" asked Colonel Flood. "We waited for over an hour for Miss Stackhouse to arrive, and this is all we get? How do I even know she's the real deal? She could be faking her so-called ability."

I'd had it up to here with Colonel Flood. And Alcide, who knew good and well what I was capable of, had not spoken up to defend me.

Werewolf minds are harder to read, but I pushed into Colonel Flood's head anyhow. I saw a collage of images, but nothing that would prove I was the real deal. They were tidbits anyone could have known about him. "What's your most embarrassing moment, Colonel Flood?" I asked. "Something you've never told anyone else."

I asked him this because the mind instinctively jumps to images that are mentioned aloud. This is proven by the old adage about pink elephants. If someone were to walk up to you and say, _Do not think of pink elephants_, you couldn't help but think of them.

His mind leaped to a very embarrassing moment.

"You should always remember to lock the door when you're changing clothes...especially when the clothes are red and lacy."

He went ashen, then his face pinched. No doubt he was recalling the memory I'd seen. In it, Colonel Flood was a pimply teenager and his mother walked in on him while he was pulling on a pair of lacy, red underwear.

Maybe I should have been tactful and not announced his proclivity for wearing women's clothing, but I'd had enough of him. Of the entire situation, really.

"Do you believe I'm the real deal now?" I demanded. "Or should I describe more of your memories?"

Distantly I wondered what had gotten into me. Yes, I had a reason to be furious, and I did have a bit of a temper, and I was at the end of my rope...Nevermind. That explained my behavior well enough. Not everything I did nowadays was the result of the vampire blood in my system.

The Colonel might have reached out and slapped me - or worse - if Eric wasn't at my side. I glanced up at Eric, and he seemed quite amused.

While I was in Colonel Flood's head, it occurred to me I could learn how Debbie managed to escape. All I learned was the story the packmaster was told by his subordinates - that she sneaked off in the dead of night, and her guards hadn't been aware of it until the following morning. Quickly I plunged into Alcide's mind, but he only knew as much as the packmaster. Interesting. It seemed he hadn't helped Debbie escape after all.

"If there's nothing else I would like to go home," I said to Eric. "And I would rather not have Pam drive me."

* * *

"This is not the way to Bon Temps," I said.

I was in the passenger seat of Eric's Corvette. I wasn't used to being in a car that was so low to the ground, nor was I used to being in a car that was so sporty and expensive.

"Fangtasia first, then Bon Temps," he said.

I wrapped my arms across my chest. Gran would have said I was pouting. But damn it, after everything that went down tonight, combined with everything I'd been through in the last few days, I wanted to be as far away from the supes as possible.

"Can't it wait?"

"No," he said, in that flat way that meant he would not respond well if I argued.

He stopped at a red light, tapping his fingers on the wheel as he waited for the light to change to green. "There are CDs in the glove compartment if you would like to choose some music."

The suggestion caught me off guard; I hadn't pegged Eric as a music aficionado. I opened the glove compartment and pulled out a sleek CD organizer. It was the type that was similar to a binder, with clear sleeves to put the CDs in.

He had a wide variety of interests. The blues, jazz, some rock, some classical. I plucked out Patsy Cline and slipped it into the CD player. Her haunting voice filled the air, and after hearing _I Fall to Pieces_, I fell to pieces. I was crying before I realized what I was doing. Perhaps Patsy Cline wasn't the best choice for a person in my mental state.

I hated the tears because Eric was a predator, and you should never show weakness in front of a predator.

He made an abrupt U-turn, and I pulled my hands away from my face to look at his handsome profile. "I thought we were going to Fangtasia."

"I decided to take you home as you requested," he said. He grabbed the Patsy Cline CD and crushed it to bits.

A choked kind of laugh escaped me as I looked at the remains of the CD. Maybe he had taken my feelings into account and was being nice, or maybe he didn't want to deal with a crying woman. It was probably the latter, but either way I would be home soon. Thank God.

* * *

_A/N – I like Patsy Cline's music, and of course, I don't own the rights to any of it. _

_I don't think Eric and Pam ever spoke in a different language in the books (They do on True Blood) but it makes logical sense that they would both know another language and would use it to communicate in secret._


	6. The Gift

_Sookie, Eric, and the other characters in this fic are not owned by yours truly._

_Reviews and alerts are like little electronic sweets! Thanks everyone!_

_I'm sure you have all heard about the F-5 tornado that struck Joplin, Missouri. One of my friends just bought a house there a few months ago and it was completely destroyed. Luckily she survived, but her cat, Espresso, is missing. I thought maybe we could all send some positive energy her way since she has literally lost everything. _

Chapter Six

The Gift

My cat, Tina, was usually so aloof it was a treat when she allowed me to pet her, but the moment she saw Eric she began rubbing against his leg. Huh. Gran always said you can trust a person animals take a liking to.

I couldn't help but grin watching Eric's response to Tina. He stared down at her as if she was an alien life form, then pulled his leg away. Tina, however, was persistent. She followed after him and continued rubbing with more zest than before, adding in some loud purring for good measure.

When we arrived I figured Eric would leave as soon as possible because of the Patsy Cline incident. I was surprised when he politely asked if he could accompany me inside. Of course I hesitated, since it might be a ploy to try to seduce me, but he assured me he wanted to take a look around in case Debbie had made another appearance. I pointed out that I would sense her mind if she was nearby, (and I didn't sense it). He pointed out that she could have been roaming about the property earlier. If her scent was recent it would be a good thing to know.

I couldn't argue with that.

Once we were inside the house, Eric glanced around my living room, but not in the way a normal person would. He seemed to be taking in the lay-out, searching for possible ways that someone could break in. It was how I imagined a bodyguard would check a new environment before allowing his charge to enter. He scrutinized the rest of my house in the same fashion. I trailed behind him, curious what he intended to do, but all he did was move from room to room. Eventually we returned to the living area, and he said Debbie's scent was still several days old.

That was when Tina began rubbing against him.

He stared down at her, one brow cocked. He was as rigid as a board. "I have not been exposed to a cat in a very long time." There was a wistfulness in his voice that intrigued me.

Whenever I thought of Eric it was usually in a sexual context due to his libido-raising blood, or I was brooding over something he did that angered me. I'd never thought of him in the context of a real person, as terrible as that was. But now I was beginning to wonder about his personal life - other than the things he did in the bedroom - and his personal history.

"How old are you? Or is asking bad etiquette?" Speaking of etiquette, I didn't have any synthetic blood on hand, and there wasn't anything else I could give him. I certainly didn't intend to offer one of my veins.

"I am not wholly sure," he said. "My best estimate is that I am approximately a thousand years old."

My jaw dropped. _A thousand years? _He had been walking the earth for a millennium? An entire millennium? It was almost inconceivable.

Maybe there was more to Eric than I guessed. Surely anyone who had been alive (or undead) for that long had to be a wise person. What had he learned about the world, and about life, during all that time? My curiosity began to burn. I knew if Gran had the opportunity she would be picking his brain. She loved history, was in fact a charter member of the Descendents of the Glorious Dead before she passed on.

"Make yourself comfortable if you like," I blurted.

My eyes widened a bit at my own words. What in the hell was I thinking, asking him to make himself comfortable? But it was instinct for me to be a good hostess, and he _was_ standing rather stiffly in the middle of my living room. Hopefully I wouldn't regret it.

He settled on the couch, and Tina hopped up on the cushion next to him. I peered at the cat, wondering why she was so drawn to him.

Now I was examining him from a new perspective. "I'm only twenty-six. You're what? 974 years older than me?" I was still having trouble processing the notion that someone could live for so long. "Are there vamps older than you?"

"Several," he said. He was staring at Tina, who was staring back at him. And slowly, as if he wasn't sure how to do it, he stretched out a finger and stroked her head. He used only one finger and moved it rigidly back and forth. Tina's purring reached epic levels, so he repeated the motion.

My night had stunk to high heaven, but I found myself chuckling. Eric was so stiff and awkward - I had never seen anyone pet an animal like he did.

His gaze snapped over to me, and at first I was worried he might be angry I was laughing at him. Maybe he noticed my laughter was good-natured, because he flashed a grin. This wasn't an _I want to strip you naked_ grin. This was a different sort of grin, one that showed a little glimpse of what he might be like as a friend. I smiled back, thinking that being friends with Eric might not be so terrible.

A scratching on the front door grabbed my attention. Eric made no reaction at all, so I figured there was no danger in the air. I should have known what to expect when I opened the door. There was a collie on my front porch, wagging his tail at me.

Sometimes when Sam transformed he acted like a human in dog's clothing. Other times his canine instincts kicked in, and he acted as if he really was a dog. I wasn't sure which version he would be tonight.

I had my answer soon enough. When he saw Tina he bent his hind legs as if about to leap on her. This would not be good. He would land on Eric…and that just had _bad idea _written all over it. I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, feeling his soft fur bunching up inside my fist.

"Don't forget your manners," I warned. Sam or no, if he was going to misbehave when he was in my house - such as chasing my cat or emptying his bowels on my carpet - he would not be welcome.

Eric gave Sam a distasteful look; he appeared to be smelling something foul. "I must return to Fangtasia," he said, and rose.

"Sure." I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I will contact you soon."

And then he was gone. I looked down at Sam and scratched the top of his head. With one finger, just to try it out.

* * *

Terry Bellefleur was in one of his moods. He was a war veteran with a serious case of PTSD and he could be unpredictable. I never, ever looked in Terry's mind because it was a scary place.

He was our cook for the evening. Lafayette had a hot date and cleared the night off with Sam earlier in the week.

At least someone was getting lucky. _I_ surely wasn't. And oh, it literally _hurt_. I ached and throbbed and was generally in torment day and night.

Sam kept a respectable distance from me, probably because he was smelling it all and it made him uncomfortable. He'd been hiding in his office since I clocked in for my shift.

"Would you join me in the bathroom for a sec, Sook?" asked Arlene. "I want to ask you for a favor."

I took a look at my tables and made sure everything was under control before agreeing.

Together we went into the bathroom, and Arlene locked the door. She immediately went to the mirror and checked her reflection.

Arlene must have gotten her hair dyed earlier today, because it was a bright, cranberry red. And she must have had a manicure as well, since her nails were long as talons and quite obviously fake. Uh-oh. I knew the signs. She was primping for a new man, or a potential new man. She had horrible taste in men, and her relationships (she had been married four times) tended to be disastrous.

"I'm dating somebody," she said. This, of course, was not a surprise. "He's coming in to Merlotte's tonight. I want you to do your thing. Find out what his intentions are. Lord knows I don't need to end up with another loser."

This was how she referred to my freaky talent. She was so uncomfortable with it she thought she needed to use code words, but she wasn't so uncomfortable she refrained from asking me to scan his thoughts.

"All right," I said, and sighed. Being the town freak, I didn't have many friends. Arlene was one of them.

"Thanks, Sookie." She began coating her lips with red gloss. I took that as a sign the conversation was over.

My customers were well taken care of, and one group had left. Two quarters shone on the table. They might as well have stiffed me if that was all they cared to leave. I stowed the fifty cents in my apron anyhow, then turned when movement registered from the corner of my eye.

Amelia was at a nearby booth, waving me over. My stomach took a nose dive. I plastered on one of my fake smiles and joined her.

"How have you been?" she asked, as if we'd known one another for years.

"I've been okay. And you?"

She shrugged. "Been staying in a crappy hotel in Shreveport. Can't afford anything nicer."

"Uh-huh." I'd taken a sip of her mind and knew what she was hinting at. I would rather not have to deal with the problem she suddenly posed. "Would you like to order anything?"

Her smile faltered. "I guess some fries and a Coke."

"Anything else?"

"You're not going to make this easy, huh?" She was fidgeting so much she was making me nervous. "I'm sure you already know what I want to ask."

"You want to stay at my house temporarily. Until you no longer have a job here." _Under Eric's employ_, I could have added, but didn't. I was still technically under Eric's employ as well, but I hadn't seen hide nor hair of him for a week.

"It wasn't my idea, but it makes sense," she said quickly.

"Whose idea was it?"

"You know." She glanced around, but no one was paying any attention to us. "The boss."

_Eric_. Eric had suggested the witch shack up with me for weeks, maybe even months, until he no longer needed her services. That pissed me off. He had a thriving business and drove a Corvette. He could afford to pay for Amelia's hotel room.

"You seem nice enough, Amelia, but I don't know you. And my house isn't exactly a safe place to be." I lowered my voice. "I was almost killed there the other day."

"I can erect some wards. They'll keep your enemies out of your home."

"You can do that?"

She smiled, showing off her very white teeth. "I can do that. And I can pay rent, too. Not a lot, unfortunately, but a reasonable amount for one of your spare rooms."

I'd seen deeply into her mind and knew she was a decent sort. And it would be nice to have an extra pair of eyes and ears around, in case Debbie returned. Furthermore, if she could really erect these wards she mentioned I would be doubly safe.

"Let me think about it while I go fetch your fries and Coke," I said.

I poured her a cup of Coke and grabbed the fries Terry had left in the window. He grunted under his breath as I took the plate.

Amelia motioned for me to sit in the booth with her after I delivered her fare. I decided resting my feet for a while wouldn't harm anyone, so I settled in across from her.

Amelia unscrewed the cap on the ketchup and upended the bottle. "You know, he was a Viking."

No ketchup was pouring from the bottle. She began to shake it up and down, but to no avail. I knew the trick, so I plucked it away from her, turned it at a forty-five degree angle, and smacked the side as close to the bottom as possible. Ketchup began plopping out. I handed the bottle back to her and she copied my example.

"Who was a Viking?" I asked.

"The boss."

Eric was a Viking? He was tall, pale, blonde, and blue-eyed - he had all the genetic markers of someone who was Nordic. It was easy to imagine him swinging a sword and wearing armor.

Wow. That image was arousing, to say the least. Then again, everything about him aroused me because of the blood in my system.

I doubted Eric sat her down and had a heart to heart with her. "How did you find out about this?"

Amelia's cheeks pinked, and her broadcasting painted the rest of the picture. She and Pam were dating. I suppressed a shudder. I couldn't imagine Pam taking Amelia to dinner and a movie like a normal person. I also couldn't imagine Pam telling Amelia private things about Eric. _Pillow talk_, I thought. _Ew_.

"Pam's really great," she said. My face must have betrayed my feelings about that statement, because Amelia went on. "She is. Seriously."

"I'm sure she is. To you." I slipped out of the booth. "We'll try out being roommates. If it doesn't work out you'll have to go."

"I'm an excellent guest. I'm a very clean person."

The door swung open, and Jason and Hoyt Fortenberry strode into the bar. Jason, my dear older brother, was convinced he was the hottest ticket in town - and his arrogant swagger proved it. He was just as much of a man slut as Eric was. Jason's sidekick, Hoyt, wasn't nearly as lucky with the females. The two worked together on a road crew during the day and prowled Bon Temps at night.

"Gotta go," I said. "I'm off in a few hours, though. We can meet at my place after that if you want."

"I'll stick around for a while. Might be interesting to take in a little of the local flavor." She popped a fry in her mouth and winked.

I went over to Jason's table and he ordered a pitcher of beer without even saying hello. He was distracted because he was scanning the bar, looking for a potential one night stand. I rolled my eyes and greeted Hoyt, who greeted me in return.

Just as I turned to fetch the pitcher, Jason spoke. "Holy shit, that's Rene Lenier, ain't it?"

I followed Jason's line of sight to the television bolted to the wall. Mostly it droned on and on soundlessly, ignored by the patrons unless there was a game on. Now, however, a photograph of a man with dark hair covered the screen. I remembered Rene. About a year ago he moved to town, worked with Jason on the road crew for a few weeks, and then up and left without telling anyone good-bye. No one knew what had become of him.

Arlene, who had gone on a couple of dates with him, dashed over to the television and turned up the volume.

The newscaster explained that Rene, whose name was actually Drew Marshall, was arrested in New Orleans after the body of a twenty-year old woman was found in the trunk of the stolen car he was driving. Apparently highway patrol pulled him over for a minor traffic offense and for some reason decided to take a gander inside the trunk.

After his arrest he confessed to the murder of six other women, (all of which he had murdered over a number of years) who were chosen specifically because they were fang-bangers. One of his victims was his own sister, who he strangled in a fit of rage after he learned she was dating a vampire.

Jason and Hoyt exchanged expressions of shock.

Arlene went pale and cupped a hand over her mouth. Her hand quivered as she pried it away from her lips. "I trusted him with my kids! Oh, God. Coby and Lisa! He took them to play miniature golf!"

I wondered why Rene left Bon Temps in such haste. It was a mystery that would probably never be solved.

The bar erupted into conversation. Everyone spoke of Rene and how they'd crossed paths with him while he lived in town. Meanwhile, I fetched the pitcher and brought it back to Jason and Hoyt.

Jason again ignored me. I understood why when I saw he was making eyes at a girl I vaguely recognized. I thought her name was Crystal. She lived out in Hot Shot, an odd, little community that didn't welcome outsiders. Her mind was fuzzy, which meant she was one of the two-natured. Jason didn't know there were supes other than vampires. He'd spent some time with Alcide, but Alcide was very careful not to reveal his true colors.

I glared at Jason until he sensed my gaze and looked at me.

"Next," I whispered.

His brow furrowed. "Huh?"

"Pick another one."

Jason's face smoothed as he put two and two together. "Whatever," he said, and made eyes at Crystal once more.

Fine. If he refused to take a telepath's opinion, then he deserved whatever he got.

Two men entered the bar. One had a bald spot and a prominent beer gut. If he was a woman I would have thought he was about six months pregnant. Arlene rushed over to him, and he pecked her on the lips. If I remembered correctly his name was Whit Spradlin. He worked at a Home Depot in Shreveport.

He was also a member of the Fellowship of the Sun.

The Fellowship of the Sun was a church, but it was also a vampire hate group. I had seen the founders, Steve and Sarah Newlin, on the news on several occasions. They were fanatics, plain and simple, and fanatics of any kind creeped me out. Especially ones driven by prejudice.

And this man, Whit Spradlin, was as bigoted as they came. Even his surface thoughts were filled with loathing for anyone who wasn't a Caucasian male. In his view, vampires were disgusting, unnatural monsters who deserved to be staked.

Arlene ushered him and his friend over to a table in her section, and glanced over at me as if to say, _Well? Get on with it_.

I really didn't want to delve any further into his mind. I already felt tainted enough from a faint scan, but I told Arlene I would discover his intentions toward her. I steeled myself to dip into his thoughts again.

Since Arlene was right in front of him, his thoughts naturally turned to her. He had many intentions. He was glad she'd attended church with him the Sunday before. He was sure that with a little more prodding he would convince her to join the Fellowship. He wanted to sleep with her, but he didn't want to settle down with a woman who already had kids. To him, Coby and Lisa were balls and chains that would drain his bank account. He didn't like them a single bit.

I was still trying to recover from the sheer grossness of his mind when Arlene came over to me. "Well?" she asked.

"Run away. As fast as you can."

"Are you sure? He has a steady job, he's religious, and he's good with the kids."

"If I was you I wouldn't allow him in the same room with Coby and Lisa."

She opened her mouth - to ask me to explain what I meant by that - then shut her mouth again. She decided she didn't want to know. Not after what her ex-boyfriend, Rene, had recently been arrested for.

Arlene shook her head and peered at Whit, struggling to figure out what I found wrong with him. "Dang it, I was really liking this one."

She was too scared to ask me to tell her straight out, and she was annoyed with me because I hadn't told her what she wanted to hear.

This annoyed me, so I tightened up my shields and blocked out everyone. It takes concentration to tighten up my shields like this. One half of my mind is paying attention to everything around me, and the other half is focusing on keeping my shields up. Sometimes I act a little strange as I'm struggling to do this, which is one of the reasons why some people refer to me as "Crazy Sookie".

I gave a little sigh of relief when Bill sat at a booth in my section. I immediately honed in on his mind, and it was so quiet and blank and wonderful…it was like that first breath of air after swimming under water for too long.

Now, I didn't trust Bill (I didn't quite trust any of the vamps I'd met) but his blank mind made me happy to see him. I sensed him around my property each night, since he was following Eric's orders and keeping an eye on me, but I hadn't seen him in person.

"Hello, Miss Stackhouse," he said. He wore a polo shirt and Dockers. He sort of looked like he was about to play a round of golf.

"Hey, Bill. We have some TrueBlood if you're interested."

"Thank you. I would prefer A-negative if you have it."

"Sure thing." I gave him a bright, genuine smile - as opposed to the fake smiles I hand out all day - and went to retrieve his order. As I did so, I relaxed my shields a fraction, and that's when I heard Whit Spradlin's thoughts about Bill.

They were violent and bloody. His mind was so angry it buzzed like a hornet's nest. I glanced over at Whit, and he and his friend were glaring at Bill.

_Idiots_. Did they actually think they could kill a vamp? Either they were ignorant of how fast and strong vamps were, or they had way too much confidence in their fighting skills.

The microwave dinged, and I pulled out the TrueBlood and brought it to Bill.

"Watch out for those two," I whispered. Bill would know who I meant. The men were still glaring at him. "They're Fellowship of the Sun."

He nodded and wrapped a pale hand around his TrueBlood.

For a while I worried Whit would make a scene. Even Sam must have sensed tension in the air, because he came out of his office for the first time since I clocked in. But Whit, despite his savage thoughts, finished up his beer and made a hasty exit, his friend close on his heels. I caught a lot of things he wanted to do to Bill, but nothing definitive.

My shift past quickly after that. Jason, against my advice, left arm-in-arm with Crystal. Hoyt struck out a couple of times and left alone. Sam went back to hide in his office. Bill finished up his TrueBlood and left me a nice tip. Arlene was still annoyed with me and didn't say a word in my direction. And as for Amelia, she met me at the bar after I clocked out and followed me home.

* * *

"Sookie! Sookie!"

The shouting woke me, and I shot up into a seated position. I was groggy, and the dream I was having before I was so rudely awoken slipped away…but not before I remembered it was a naughty dream, and Eric was prominently featured in it.

"What?" I asked. Still bleary-eyed, I looked at my alarm clock. It was seven o'clock in the a.m. If this was Amelia's idea of being a good roommate, she was dead wrong.

"Can I come in?"

I grunted something that might have been yes. She took it as such and burst in.

"There's a break in the case."

"What case?" I crawled out of bed and slipped into a robe. After this I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, no matter how hard I tried.

"The one we've been working on." She was extraordinarily chipper - a morning person, no doubt. I used to be a morning person until I started working the night shift at a bar. Amelia hadn't even been in my home twenty-four hours, and I was already wondering if letting her stay with me was a mistake.

"Hallow's coven will be at a party I've been invited to," she said. "It's a party for witches, kind of an exclusive thing. There will be practitioners there from all over Louisiana. I can bring along a plus one, and I thought it could be you. You could read Hallow's mind, and Mark's mind, and any other witches that seem suspicious. It will be great. You'll get to go undercover."

"I'm not a spy," I said. That wasn't really true. I intentionally and unintentionally spied on other minds all the time. "At least, I'm not a trained one. What if they realize what I'm doing? It could be dangerous."

"My coven will protect you, but I doubt that will be necessary." She was disappointed I wasn't as enthused as she was. "I'm sure the boss will agree it's a good idea."

"Maybe, but I won't go to this party just because _he_ thinks it's a good idea."

Amelia smirked. "You should bump uglies with him and get it over with. If I was you, I would."

"I am not bumping uglies with him."

Normally I made my bed as soon as I woke, but I was too tired this morning. I would jump on it after I had a cup of coffee. I stumbled out into the hall and she followed.

"Why not?" she asked.

"It's too early for this conversation."

"No girl talk, then?"

I shook my head. The closer I came to the kitchen, the more I smelled coffee. At least she'd made a fresh pot.

"The party is this Saturday, eight o'clock. We're to dress formally." Amelia added that she'd found the invitation when she checked her e-mail a few minutes ago and had run right in to tell me.

She was speaking as if I had already agreed to attend. I remained silent and poured a cup of the brew. It was a little stronger than I usually took it, but I needed strong after getting less sleep than I was used to. Then I wrapped myself in an afghan and ventured outside to sit on my front porch.

It was chilly, but not so cold I wanted to rush back into the house. I was just about to sit on my porch swing when I saw a package next to my front door. I was certain it hadn't been there last night.

I searched around, both with my eyes and my freaky talent. I saw no one, and Amelia's brain was the only brain I sensed.

The box was white. There was no name written on it, no address, and no postmark. It was cube shaped and an object as big as a basketball could have fit in it. I shook it like it was a Christmas present, and something banged around inside. I lifted the box a little higher, and that's when I saw something reddish-brown crusted on the bottom.

My screen door slammed, and I jolted.

"What is it?" Amelia asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you plan on opening it?"

That reddish-brown substance frightened me because it looked like blood had leaked through and dried. But how was I to respond? I could dispose of the box unopened, but then some part of me would always wonder what it contained. It was like looking at a train wreck.

Dread yanked at my gut as I brought the box into the house. I held it at arm's length, and rather than putting it on the table, I put it on the kitchen floor.

Amelia handed me a steak knife from the drawer. "You're acting like it's a bomb or something."

I sliced the tape over the top of the box. The two flaps popped open, and I screamed.

* * *

A/N-

_In canon, Rene strangled the women and left them where he killed them. In this A/U, he buries them, which is why there was a body found in his trunk. He was taking her to the woods to dispose of her. He also never married Arlene (I think he was her second husband). They only dated briefly. _

_**jaxg** _asked: _Why is Eric so concerned about Ginger being missing?_

In the books Eric was protective of his people. It's true that Ginger is pretty low on the totem pole, but if he was to do nothing it would make him look weak. Other enemies might think if someone could get away with kidnapping one of Eric's employees, maybe they could get away with other things, too. And besides, her kidnapping could hint to a darker conspiracy against him. He needs to find out who did it and why.

**AlexJade** asked: _Has Alcide lied about the fact that he was separated from Debbie? Did he really care for Sookie at all?_

We will learn more about the Alcide/Debbie situation in later chapters. I won't leave you guys hanging. In the books, Sookie is not the type to confront men she's in relationships with, especially in the earlier ones. She had a tendency to run away/avoid the issues instead. How long did we want her to talk to Eric about the blood bond and his recovered memories? This is why I haven't had her confront Alcide yet.

**knblas** asked: _Will you address why Sophie-Ann isn't involved yet? Unless that's Eric's job this time around?_

This will be addressed as well, but in a different way since this is an A/U.


End file.
